NOTICE: The first part of this title has already been posted, and may be seen by “scrolling down” the “elevator” on the right part of your screen, using your mouse and “left-clicking/holding” on the elevator.
Please read THAT one first, in order to properly understand THIS one. Thanks.
In the first one, I indicated that this subject will be “weird”, since it consists of, basically, definitions or grammar rules.
While in the first one, I awoke at 5AM thinking about the subject, then getting up to start it, this is a couple of days later, and I’m wide awake!
(For now, at least. I AM retired, and sometimes, even tired.)
Though I mentioned one case of "redundancy" last time, I want to pursue that further.
A long time friend in Springfield named Raymond Currie has been almost “obsessed” with redundancies. He printed a list of these errors (maybe 100 of them), entitled, “Baby Puppies I Have Known”. I hate it like everything that I can no longer “put my hands on it”, but, I just now talked to him, and he has agreed to send me a copy of the list.
Ray, like me, is almost “superannuated” at 86 (I’m 84). By the way, Ray tells me that he teaches a Senior Citizens Sunday School Class at his church, consisting of students older than he! (Is it the water there, or what?) Regular readers of my “Blog” will like it that he remarked about my “perspicacity” in remembering part of his street address. (Perspicacity - “acute perception”).
(Break for more info) Got it!
I have now received from Ray the “Baby Puppies” he talks about - over a hundred on this list.
Re-reading these, I’m rather embarrassed at how I almost regularly violate some of these “redundancies”.
Here are some readily used phrases that are, really, “redundancies”, or “tautologies”, as a newspaper writer called them:
“Brief glimpse. Crimson red. Fatal slaying. Most immediate. Common vernacular. Fair and equitable. False pretenses. Clear transparency. Over and above. Basic fundamentals.”
On and on. In EVERY case, the second word is not needed! Redundancy! Whew!
There are more: “Wet and soggy. Merge together. Self conceit. Mechanical robot. Unexpected surprise. Armed gunman.”
Enough of that. I’m embarrassed.
In “Barbies Time”, I mentioned children and grandchildren, as well as “the love they garner, and offer.”
I wondered about using “garner”, but in looking it up, I felt secure. One of the descriptions mentions: “to earn or acquire something by effort.” That seemed to fit, though I suppose that word is not often used in talking of the love children receive. They probably don’t make an effort to be loved. Maybe a mistake.
One of the problems I have in these postings, is knowing when to use quotation marks, parentheses, italics, capitals, etc. I haven’t mastered it yet, I think. Back in the post “Blabbermouth, Confession and Quotations”, I used A LOT of quotations (thus part of the title).
In that post, I used a set of parentheses 13 times! Then, I used Capital Letters another 13 times for emphasis! And, I used 30 (count ’em), 30 sets of quotation marks. (I have to admit that I PURPOSELY used several sets of quotations, to fit the title, I guess. Though, actually, I changed the title to include all these uses.) I wondered if anyone would notice so many. (Why am I revealing all of this?)
But, when are these emphases proper? I don’t know. I use them to separate one phrase from the text, I guess.
Such is the life of a “blogger”. (I didn’t HAVE to become one, you know!)
In “New Guinea II”, I fell back on a “trick”, or “practice” that I like to use - familiar quotations out of context. I said, for example, “Since this location was close to the sea, we had plenty of water - but ‘not a drop to drink’” You know - “Water, water, everywhere, but not a drop to drink”? You’ll find me, if you haven’t already, using familiar quotations “out of context”, for effect.
In “Toledo Fiasco”, I listed something I like to do - tease. And before A LOT of people. ("Are all of you folks going to New York?") I think I’d best not do these things when any family members are around. They’d be embarrassed. How many people have an 84 year old parent/grandparent who “makes a fool of himself” before a lot of people? I try to do these things when I’m by myself, or, maybe when Bobby is with me. He’s my 37 year old grandson. I think he appreciates these things. He laughs with his grandpa. But, I guess I’m just a “show-off”. As well as “being gabby” on my blog.
Also, I like to “poke fun at myself” - as evidenced by my reporting how I talked, impertinently (brash, bold or lack of respect) to my future father-in-law, and how he teased me about being short. I did that in “New Guinea and Manila”. And, in “Nicknames”, I joked about the “crazy” nicknames I’ve gotten.
Another thing I don’t know about, is where to put a quotation mark or period, when a quotation and sentence end together. Which goes first? The “period/question mark”, or the “quotation?”. What is the rule? Beats me! I just do what “seems” to be proper at the time. I was corrected on this one time by a retired school teacher, but I neither remember who she was, nor what she said. (I almost broke another rule right there. I ALMOST used “neither” and “or” together. Typo, actually. But I had to add “nor”.
In “Cell Phones”, did you notice I used the words - “ubiquitous and omnipresent”? I was showing off! They essentially mean the same thing, so wouldn’t that be a “redundancy”? I think so.
OUCH! I just looked them up, and they DO mean the SAME THING! “found everywhere”. (Tautology!) (Redundancy!)
I just thought of something else. I wonder if I’m trying to be “honest” like Bobby’s sister, Molly? She’s so honest on her blog “Close to Home”, that it’s almost embarrassing. She’s a “gem”.
And, to finally end this “self-flagellation” (strong self criticism), I’m so “proud” of my BlackBerry 8330 Smart Phone, that I listed ALL of its “attributes”(quality, property or characteristic) in “Cell Phones”. Bragging, actually.
Whoa……….that’s taking “confession” a little too far.
Really!
“Do nothing through strife of vain-glory, but let each esteem other(s) better than himself.” Philippians 2:3
Have mercy!
(Wait a minute! Should I be revealing all my “trade secrets”? Will there no longer be a “mystery” about me? Hmmm! Too late now!)
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Words, Grammar and Redundancies
At the outset, I think I should tell you that this is going to be one of the weirdest postings I’ve ever done on this “blog”.
You might say, “Why do something weird that no one will want to read?”
Good thought.
However, “getting down to basics”, a “gabby” person like me
------------------------------------------------
(gab·by [gábbee]
(comparative gab·bi·er, superlative gab·bi·est)
adj
talking incessantly: talking or inclined to talk to an excessive and irritating degree (informal)
Encarta ® World English Dictionary © & (P) 1998-2005 Microsoft Corporation. All rights reserved.)
------------------------------------------------
doesn’t have to make sense, or impress anyone with “material” or “pertinent” stuff. He just has to get something off his (or her) mind. If someone is interested enough to read it, it’s a “plus”, but not a requirement for the “gabby” person to feel fulfilled. Got it?
(By the way, ALL of the definitions of words that I print here in this posting, are from the Encarta World English Dictionary quoted above. I mention this so I won’t have to list all of the copyright data after each word.)
I say, this is going to be weird because it will consist, mainly, of definitions or grammar rules.
Forgive me, but I woke up this morning at 5 AM, and here at 6:11 AM, I’m STILL awake, thinking about this subject and posting. I’ll be here (stopping for breakfast. “Gabby persons eat also.”), off and on, until I get this subject off my mind.
An interesting thing is, though other persons have always known I was a “gabber”, I never thought much about it, until this “blog” kinda revealed it to me. You know, like the alcoholic finally realizes that he is “hooked”. Although, I should have picked up on it, after Mr. Little suggested that I should concentrate more on getting something into the minds of others, rather than just “getting something off my own mind.”
Oh, well!
Back to “Words, Grammar and Redundancies”.
(Excuse me - my BlackBerry alarm just sounded, at 6:30. I have to turn it off.)
I’m going to try to look through these postings (there are 24 in just a little more than 2 months), looking for some of the unusual words, or grammar rules I’ve listed, and try to explain. Remember, this is a “hobby” with me. In other words, I’m NOT an expert or authority on these subjects.
I had intended to start with the first posting, and then follow them back to this one, trying to explain my usage of a word, phrase or “grammar rule”. But I think it would be helpful to describe the word that “kicked off” these explanations: it’s the word posit.
I used this word in my posting about “Ham Radio”. I said, “I don’t mean to imply that Ken thereby now endorses all the facts I posit.” Unusual word, right? Right. I don’t even know where I got it. It just “came into my mind”, while thinking about what I had written. It means, “to put something forward”.
(Oh………it’s 7:15, and Tonya just called John and me to breakfast.)
(Break)
I should explain what I DO when I come up with these words, phrases or grammatical expressions, that are unusual. I go ahead and use the word or phrase in my original writing on the Word Processor. (I write it down so I won’t forget it.) Then, I save the writing, and go to the Encarta English Dictionary on my computer to check out the meaning. If the proper meaning coincides with my usage of it, I leave it in the post. If not, I drop it, and choose another word. (What’s weird is that I STILL make mistakes.)
Here's how “posit” triggered THIS posting. Some thought that it was just a “typo”. Makes sense, right? Maybe I meant to say “post”, rather than “posit”. ( I should add that I DO make typos - on these postings. In fact, I’ve corrected some “typos” on previous postings that I had missed before.) But, this WASN’T a typo. I MEANT to use that word.
Thus, the explanation just given.
In going back to the first posting, right off, I see that I’m going to have to admit to, what I NOW feel is a “redundancy”. (“Superfluous, or no longer needed.”)
In my first posting, entitled “Introduction”, I see that I said, “This is my FIRST introduction to blogs.”
What?
I ask myself now, “Isn’t an ‘introduction’ a ‘first’? Why USE the word 'FIRST' at all?" See what I mean?
On the second one, I quoted Phil. 2:3, “Let each esteem other better than themselves.” Esteem - “Value something or somebody highly.” And, I have to add, the King James Version I just quoted is, in this present day, grammatically incorrect, in that “each” implies “one”, so it should be “better than himself”, today.
In my next posting, I used the word “Excellence”. (“Superiority, or an outstanding feature.”) I used it as a term for “perfection”.
I said I thought we should strive for excellence. “Try hard.”
In several of these postings, I refer to my grand-children. Or, grandchildren. Or, great-grandchildren. Or, great-grand-children. Obviously, I don’t know what is right.
Dummy me! I just now looked up this phrase, and the Dictionary says, “ grandchildren” and “great-grandchildren”. Why didn’t I look up this phrase long ago? Dummy! (I heard a Christian Psychologist one time say that we shouldn’t “put ourselves down”, by calling ourselves “dumb” or some such. (Actually, it helps to keep me humble.)
“Humble? Mike?” Really!
Other difficult grammatical terms are: nouns; adjectives; verbs; and adverbs. I gotta tell ya, in spite of my “hobby” concerning these things, I often err - as do MANY authors of books I read (many of them Mysteries).
For example, right off, in my posting entitled “Toledo Fiasco”, I used the word “intrepid” - meaning, “fearless - courageous and bold”. I said, “So, intrepid Senior Citizen that I am,….”. Though there is a serious question about me being “courageous and bold”, I am certainly “fearless”. The word “intrepid” is an adjective, (modifying a noun - “Senior Citizen”). So, the grammar was correct.
However, later in the same posting, (Notice I said “posting”, rather than “blog”. There is only one “blog”. It is this whole “Grandpa Mike” thing. I “post” on the “blog“. Got it?), after mentioning my GPS, I initially said, “After all, I AM intrepid”. Wrong! “Intrepid” is an adjective, not a noun. I am actually, “an intrepid kind of guy”. I left out the whole last sentence. Seemed rather “grandiose”. (“Oh, what does that mean?”) “Pretentious and pompous”. Right! But, what do those two words mean? “Grandiose!”
Gotcha!
(If I still have readers now, it would be a miracle!)
But, moving along - In referring to a lay minister who came to Jean’s Nursing Home for Church services, I called him “gregarious” - means “friendly”. “Well, Mike. Why didn’t you just use the word ‘friendly’ instead?” I suppose, because “gregarious” seemed more “pompous”.
“Superannuated”. In “Home For A Week-End”, I defined that term. It means, “Retired, worn out or out-of-date”.
In “Blabbermouth, Confession and Quotations” I used the word “embellish”, describing a telephone call-in guy telling of one of his experiences. I also added, “I STILL have a tendency to ‘embellish’ what I’m saying, supposedly for effect.” I later looked up the word “embellish”, and I’m not sure I like what it implies that I do. The definition: “1. Beautify something. 2. Add false details to something.” Wow! I sure hope I don’t “add false details” to anything. Maybe a bad choice of words.
Well, I’ve overstayed my welcome again. I’ll have to finish this in a future “blog” -er “posting”.
What verse may I use for this post? How about, “Let all things be done decently and in order.” I Cor. 14:40
You might say, “Why do something weird that no one will want to read?”
Good thought.
However, “getting down to basics”, a “gabby” person like me
------------------------------------------------
(gab·by [gábbee]
(comparative gab·bi·er, superlative gab·bi·est)
adj
talking incessantly: talking or inclined to talk to an excessive and irritating degree (informal)
Encarta ® World English Dictionary © & (P) 1998-2005 Microsoft Corporation. All rights reserved.)
------------------------------------------------
doesn’t have to make sense, or impress anyone with “material” or “pertinent” stuff. He just has to get something off his (or her) mind. If someone is interested enough to read it, it’s a “plus”, but not a requirement for the “gabby” person to feel fulfilled. Got it?
(By the way, ALL of the definitions of words that I print here in this posting, are from the Encarta World English Dictionary quoted above. I mention this so I won’t have to list all of the copyright data after each word.)
I say, this is going to be weird because it will consist, mainly, of definitions or grammar rules.
Forgive me, but I woke up this morning at 5 AM, and here at 6:11 AM, I’m STILL awake, thinking about this subject and posting. I’ll be here (stopping for breakfast. “Gabby persons eat also.”), off and on, until I get this subject off my mind.
An interesting thing is, though other persons have always known I was a “gabber”, I never thought much about it, until this “blog” kinda revealed it to me. You know, like the alcoholic finally realizes that he is “hooked”. Although, I should have picked up on it, after Mr. Little suggested that I should concentrate more on getting something into the minds of others, rather than just “getting something off my own mind.”
Oh, well!
Back to “Words, Grammar and Redundancies”.
(Excuse me - my BlackBerry alarm just sounded, at 6:30. I have to turn it off.)
I’m going to try to look through these postings (there are 24 in just a little more than 2 months), looking for some of the unusual words, or grammar rules I’ve listed, and try to explain. Remember, this is a “hobby” with me. In other words, I’m NOT an expert or authority on these subjects.
I had intended to start with the first posting, and then follow them back to this one, trying to explain my usage of a word, phrase or “grammar rule”. But I think it would be helpful to describe the word that “kicked off” these explanations: it’s the word posit.
I used this word in my posting about “Ham Radio”. I said, “I don’t mean to imply that Ken thereby now endorses all the facts I posit.” Unusual word, right? Right. I don’t even know where I got it. It just “came into my mind”, while thinking about what I had written. It means, “to put something forward”.
(Oh………it’s 7:15, and Tonya just called John and me to breakfast.)
(Break)
I should explain what I DO when I come up with these words, phrases or grammatical expressions, that are unusual. I go ahead and use the word or phrase in my original writing on the Word Processor. (I write it down so I won’t forget it.) Then, I save the writing, and go to the Encarta English Dictionary on my computer to check out the meaning. If the proper meaning coincides with my usage of it, I leave it in the post. If not, I drop it, and choose another word. (What’s weird is that I STILL make mistakes.)
Here's how “posit” triggered THIS posting. Some thought that it was just a “typo”. Makes sense, right? Maybe I meant to say “post”, rather than “posit”. ( I should add that I DO make typos - on these postings. In fact, I’ve corrected some “typos” on previous postings that I had missed before.) But, this WASN’T a typo. I MEANT to use that word.
Thus, the explanation just given.
In going back to the first posting, right off, I see that I’m going to have to admit to, what I NOW feel is a “redundancy”. (“Superfluous, or no longer needed.”)
In my first posting, entitled “Introduction”, I see that I said, “This is my FIRST introduction to blogs.”
What?
I ask myself now, “Isn’t an ‘introduction’ a ‘first’? Why USE the word 'FIRST' at all?" See what I mean?
On the second one, I quoted Phil. 2:3, “Let each esteem other better than themselves.” Esteem - “Value something or somebody highly.” And, I have to add, the King James Version I just quoted is, in this present day, grammatically incorrect, in that “each” implies “one”, so it should be “better than himself”, today.
In my next posting, I used the word “Excellence”. (“Superiority, or an outstanding feature.”) I used it as a term for “perfection”.
I said I thought we should strive for excellence. “Try hard.”
In several of these postings, I refer to my grand-children. Or, grandchildren. Or, great-grandchildren. Or, great-grand-children. Obviously, I don’t know what is right.
Dummy me! I just now looked up this phrase, and the Dictionary says, “ grandchildren” and “great-grandchildren”. Why didn’t I look up this phrase long ago? Dummy! (I heard a Christian Psychologist one time say that we shouldn’t “put ourselves down”, by calling ourselves “dumb” or some such. (Actually, it helps to keep me humble.)
“Humble? Mike?” Really!
Other difficult grammatical terms are: nouns; adjectives; verbs; and adverbs. I gotta tell ya, in spite of my “hobby” concerning these things, I often err - as do MANY authors of books I read (many of them Mysteries).
For example, right off, in my posting entitled “Toledo Fiasco”, I used the word “intrepid” - meaning, “fearless - courageous and bold”. I said, “So, intrepid Senior Citizen that I am,….”. Though there is a serious question about me being “courageous and bold”, I am certainly “fearless”. The word “intrepid” is an adjective, (modifying a noun - “Senior Citizen”). So, the grammar was correct.
However, later in the same posting, (Notice I said “posting”, rather than “blog”. There is only one “blog”. It is this whole “Grandpa Mike” thing. I “post” on the “blog“. Got it?), after mentioning my GPS, I initially said, “After all, I AM intrepid”. Wrong! “Intrepid” is an adjective, not a noun. I am actually, “an intrepid kind of guy”. I left out the whole last sentence. Seemed rather “grandiose”. (“Oh, what does that mean?”) “Pretentious and pompous”. Right! But, what do those two words mean? “Grandiose!”
Gotcha!
(If I still have readers now, it would be a miracle!)
But, moving along - In referring to a lay minister who came to Jean’s Nursing Home for Church services, I called him “gregarious” - means “friendly”. “Well, Mike. Why didn’t you just use the word ‘friendly’ instead?” I suppose, because “gregarious” seemed more “pompous”.
“Superannuated”. In “Home For A Week-End”, I defined that term. It means, “Retired, worn out or out-of-date”.
In “Blabbermouth, Confession and Quotations” I used the word “embellish”, describing a telephone call-in guy telling of one of his experiences. I also added, “I STILL have a tendency to ‘embellish’ what I’m saying, supposedly for effect.” I later looked up the word “embellish”, and I’m not sure I like what it implies that I do. The definition: “1. Beautify something. 2. Add false details to something.” Wow! I sure hope I don’t “add false details” to anything. Maybe a bad choice of words.
Well, I’ve overstayed my welcome again. I’ll have to finish this in a future “blog” -er “posting”.
What verse may I use for this post? How about, “Let all things be done decently and in order.” I Cor. 14:40
Friday, January 9, 2009
Radio Ministry II
NOTICE: The first part of this title has already been posted, and may be seen by “scrolling down” the “elevator” on the right part of your screen, using your mouse and “left-clicking/holding” on the elevator.
Please read it first, in order to properly understand this one. Thanks.
Previously, I’ve described my early “religious” home life, followed by finally “receiving Christ”, and being “Born Again”, or “getting saved”.
The narrative ended by my relating how, when we returned home from Stanley and Miriam’s, I stayed up and read the Bible that Miriam had given me 9 years earlier.
The beginning purpose of this title was to relate my experiences prior to, and following my introduction to a “Radio Ministry”. What has preceded has been preparatory to that.
After leaving the Army in 1946, I joined R.W. Schetter Jewelry and Radio as a radio repairman. When the radios were repaired, I was trained as a “clock repairman”, starting with large wall clocks.
By 1949, Television had reached our “shores”, as we say. And, I took some training in their repair. Radios still broke, so I fixed some of them as well. But, TV took up more and more of my time.
Right now, I can’t quite come up with the reason, but I offered to buy the radio/TV section of the store, then opened up my own Maddex Radio and TV business. (This was BEFORE I received Christ.)
While repairing mostly television sets, I had a radio on to listen to.
Though I started my business in January of 1951, it was in December of that year that we had our “Salvation Experience”.
After that, I listened to as many Christian radio ministries as I could find. Of course, "Back To The Bible" from Lincoln, Nebraska was a daily favorite. Sidney and Helen Correll’s "Wings Over Dayton" ministry from the Christian Tabernacle in Dayton likewise. I found others from across the nation, and, while listening, I was repairing Television sets.
One local area program I began listening to was “From The Bible”, featuring Pastor Alvin G. Ross, of the Blessed Hope Baptist Church in Springfield. I listened 6 days a week.
One Saturday, early in 1953, Pastor Ross announced that that day would be the last time the program would be aired.
I was dumbfounded! Why would that be? Why couldn’t it continue?
Outgoing guy that I was, I couldn’t “take that lying down”. I called the station right away.
Fortunately, the Pastor had not left the station yet, so he got on the phone to talk to me. I asked him the reason he was no longer to be on, and he said the Church just felt they couldn’t afford to continue.
“I’m in business in Mechanicsburg. Why can’t I sponsor it? And if so, would you continue?” He said, “Let me come up to talk to you.”
He did, and I signed up to sponsor it right away.
The next day, Sunday, Jean and the boys and I drove to Springfield to attend the Pastor’s Church.
I’d better say this: We had not been very happy with our former church (in whose parsonage we had been married), ever since we “got saved”. I took my Bible to Church there, and I was the only one to do so.
Our minister “left out” what I felt was an important part of the Bible passage he was expounding, so I called him to talk the next day. Turns out that the Salvation message of Christ was not on his agenda.
We left.
For the past several months, we had been driving to Columbus on Sunday nights to the non-denominational evangelistic outreach across the street from the State House. It was named Souls Harbor. During that time, Jean and I were immersed as believers there.
Also at that time, we attended a once-a-week Cottage Prayer Meeting and Bible Study, led by George Woodburn from Urbana.
Now, with the Church in Springfield, and the weekly Bible Class, we didn’t have to drive all the way to Columbus to be “fed”, spiritually. We got it 3 times a week right there in Springfield. And, I continued to sponsor “From The Bible”.
Since all my family had always sung in Church, I kinda gravitated to the Music Ministry of the Church. I sang in the choir, and the Pastor had me lead the Evening Song Service. Then, the Pastor took me with him for a week of Evangelistic Services in a mission church in Kentucky.
Pastor Ross was a graduate of the Moody Bible Institute of Chicago. He told me about WMBI, the pioneer christian radio station there, and wondered if I would feel called to a Radio ministry. Whether it was helpful or not, several of the Church members assured me that I would be “called” into the ministry - in some fashion.
In the Spring of 1953, a local Mechanicsburg man named Joe Hinton, came into the Shop one day and asked me if I would be willing to sell out the business. Shocking!
I sold - he bought - and I was not only out of a job, I was now free to see if I should get into the ministry.
Of course, Moody Bible Institute loomed large before me, due to the influence of Pastor Ross.
In about July of that year, I wrote to Dr. William Culbertson, (who else?), President of MBI, about the possibility of my employment at WMBI, the Institute’s radio station.
I heard nothing.
Well, maybe a Music Ministry was what I should do.
With financial support from Stanley and Miriam, and leaving the boys with Grandma Anderson again, Jean and I drove to Chicago to see about enrolling in Day School at Moody. I HAD to be in the Ministry.
We arrived at Moody, and after relating our desire, we were shepherded to the office of the Assistant Dean of Men, Ralph Snow.
He wondered what I would do to support my family, if I entered Day School. I indicated that Radio was the only experience I had, but since that was my “old life”, I wasn’t very interested. However, it was what I knew, so I was willing.
Dean Snow then called the Personnel Office, to see if there would be any possibility of an incoming student teaching radio to the Missionary Radio students. (After being at Moody for some time in 1954, I learned that Dean Snow shouldn’t have called Personnel, it should have been the Student Placement Office.)
The Personnel secretary, Virginia Robinson, asked the Dean my name. He responded, “Maddex”. She apparently left the phone for a minute or so, then came back on and said, “MYRON” Maddex? Dean Snow - “As a matter of fact it is. Do you know him?” “No”, Viginia said, “but I know the name. We just sent him a letter and application for an engineer’s job at WMBI.”
Dean Snow said to us, “This is out of my hands. Go see Miss Robinson.”
We did, and she confirmed what she had told him, and then introduced me to Leigh Robinson (no relation), head of the Studio Engineers.
We went home, to find that the application had arrived. I filled it out, and returned it. The most difficult question to answer was: “Would you feel employment at Moody Bible Institute would fulfill your desire to be in the full-time ministry?” I finally was able to answer affirmatively.
Thus, on January 4, 1954, I joined the WMBI engineering staff, and stayed for 11 years. It didn’t take me long to “feel called” to a Radio Ministry. That call remained for 45 years, until Retirement, at the end of 1998.
“For ye have need of patience, that after ye have done the will of God, ye might receive the promise.” Hebrews 10:36.
Thank God, for HIS Patience!
Please read it first, in order to properly understand this one. Thanks.
Previously, I’ve described my early “religious” home life, followed by finally “receiving Christ”, and being “Born Again”, or “getting saved”.
The narrative ended by my relating how, when we returned home from Stanley and Miriam’s, I stayed up and read the Bible that Miriam had given me 9 years earlier.
The beginning purpose of this title was to relate my experiences prior to, and following my introduction to a “Radio Ministry”. What has preceded has been preparatory to that.
After leaving the Army in 1946, I joined R.W. Schetter Jewelry and Radio as a radio repairman. When the radios were repaired, I was trained as a “clock repairman”, starting with large wall clocks.
By 1949, Television had reached our “shores”, as we say. And, I took some training in their repair. Radios still broke, so I fixed some of them as well. But, TV took up more and more of my time.
Right now, I can’t quite come up with the reason, but I offered to buy the radio/TV section of the store, then opened up my own Maddex Radio and TV business. (This was BEFORE I received Christ.)
While repairing mostly television sets, I had a radio on to listen to.
Though I started my business in January of 1951, it was in December of that year that we had our “Salvation Experience”.
After that, I listened to as many Christian radio ministries as I could find. Of course, "Back To The Bible" from Lincoln, Nebraska was a daily favorite. Sidney and Helen Correll’s "Wings Over Dayton" ministry from the Christian Tabernacle in Dayton likewise. I found others from across the nation, and, while listening, I was repairing Television sets.
One local area program I began listening to was “From The Bible”, featuring Pastor Alvin G. Ross, of the Blessed Hope Baptist Church in Springfield. I listened 6 days a week.
One Saturday, early in 1953, Pastor Ross announced that that day would be the last time the program would be aired.
I was dumbfounded! Why would that be? Why couldn’t it continue?
Outgoing guy that I was, I couldn’t “take that lying down”. I called the station right away.
Fortunately, the Pastor had not left the station yet, so he got on the phone to talk to me. I asked him the reason he was no longer to be on, and he said the Church just felt they couldn’t afford to continue.
“I’m in business in Mechanicsburg. Why can’t I sponsor it? And if so, would you continue?” He said, “Let me come up to talk to you.”
He did, and I signed up to sponsor it right away.
The next day, Sunday, Jean and the boys and I drove to Springfield to attend the Pastor’s Church.
I’d better say this: We had not been very happy with our former church (in whose parsonage we had been married), ever since we “got saved”. I took my Bible to Church there, and I was the only one to do so.
Our minister “left out” what I felt was an important part of the Bible passage he was expounding, so I called him to talk the next day. Turns out that the Salvation message of Christ was not on his agenda.
We left.
For the past several months, we had been driving to Columbus on Sunday nights to the non-denominational evangelistic outreach across the street from the State House. It was named Souls Harbor. During that time, Jean and I were immersed as believers there.
Also at that time, we attended a once-a-week Cottage Prayer Meeting and Bible Study, led by George Woodburn from Urbana.
Now, with the Church in Springfield, and the weekly Bible Class, we didn’t have to drive all the way to Columbus to be “fed”, spiritually. We got it 3 times a week right there in Springfield. And, I continued to sponsor “From The Bible”.
Since all my family had always sung in Church, I kinda gravitated to the Music Ministry of the Church. I sang in the choir, and the Pastor had me lead the Evening Song Service. Then, the Pastor took me with him for a week of Evangelistic Services in a mission church in Kentucky.
Pastor Ross was a graduate of the Moody Bible Institute of Chicago. He told me about WMBI, the pioneer christian radio station there, and wondered if I would feel called to a Radio ministry. Whether it was helpful or not, several of the Church members assured me that I would be “called” into the ministry - in some fashion.
In the Spring of 1953, a local Mechanicsburg man named Joe Hinton, came into the Shop one day and asked me if I would be willing to sell out the business. Shocking!
I sold - he bought - and I was not only out of a job, I was now free to see if I should get into the ministry.
Of course, Moody Bible Institute loomed large before me, due to the influence of Pastor Ross.
In about July of that year, I wrote to Dr. William Culbertson, (who else?), President of MBI, about the possibility of my employment at WMBI, the Institute’s radio station.
I heard nothing.
Well, maybe a Music Ministry was what I should do.
With financial support from Stanley and Miriam, and leaving the boys with Grandma Anderson again, Jean and I drove to Chicago to see about enrolling in Day School at Moody. I HAD to be in the Ministry.
We arrived at Moody, and after relating our desire, we were shepherded to the office of the Assistant Dean of Men, Ralph Snow.
He wondered what I would do to support my family, if I entered Day School. I indicated that Radio was the only experience I had, but since that was my “old life”, I wasn’t very interested. However, it was what I knew, so I was willing.
Dean Snow then called the Personnel Office, to see if there would be any possibility of an incoming student teaching radio to the Missionary Radio students. (After being at Moody for some time in 1954, I learned that Dean Snow shouldn’t have called Personnel, it should have been the Student Placement Office.)
The Personnel secretary, Virginia Robinson, asked the Dean my name. He responded, “Maddex”. She apparently left the phone for a minute or so, then came back on and said, “MYRON” Maddex? Dean Snow - “As a matter of fact it is. Do you know him?” “No”, Viginia said, “but I know the name. We just sent him a letter and application for an engineer’s job at WMBI.”
Dean Snow said to us, “This is out of my hands. Go see Miss Robinson.”
We did, and she confirmed what she had told him, and then introduced me to Leigh Robinson (no relation), head of the Studio Engineers.
We went home, to find that the application had arrived. I filled it out, and returned it. The most difficult question to answer was: “Would you feel employment at Moody Bible Institute would fulfill your desire to be in the full-time ministry?” I finally was able to answer affirmatively.
Thus, on January 4, 1954, I joined the WMBI engineering staff, and stayed for 11 years. It didn’t take me long to “feel called” to a Radio Ministry. That call remained for 45 years, until Retirement, at the end of 1998.
“For ye have need of patience, that after ye have done the will of God, ye might receive the promise.” Hebrews 10:36.
Thank God, for HIS Patience!
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Drafted
Once in awhile, I run across someone who appears to be “more patriotic” than I.
You know, he spent the entire World War II as an infantryman, fighting hand-to-hand with the enemy, got wounded and received a “purple heart” medal.
He volunteered for a dangerous assignment to “infiltrate” the enemy to find out certain strategic information, was successful, and received a “bravery medal” for his efforts.
He was so dedicated, that he received a “field promotion” to Second Lieutenant - without attending OCS (Officer Candidate School). His men could, would and did capture an enemy position so successfully that he was again promoted - to Captain.
A real hero. All of us were proud to have known him - back home as a quiet, unassuming young boy.
What was his name? It is “Legion”, that is, many individuals could fit in here.
I can’t name this individual, because he doesn’t exist, exactly as I have portrayed him. What I’ve described is an amalgamation of MANY young men, barely out of high school, during World War II. Hundreds could honestly fit in with the previous description.
True patriots - and heroes.
But, when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, I was a Senior in High School. I was graduated the following May. I went to an Electrical and Radio Technical School in Chicago, to learn radio repairing. This was to be my vocation.
This guy, (we’re talking generically here) was graduated at the same time as I. He didn’t go to Trade School. He didn’t enroll in College. He didn’t even take the summer off.
He enlisted in the Army, to “fight the Japs”.
Why did the two of us choose different paths? Did he “love his country” more than I? Was I more interested in a career to make money, than trying to help my country?
I don’t actually know the answer to these questions - but they need to be asked - by me, as well as others.
After three months, I was graduated, and was finished at Coyne Electrical and Radio trade school in Chicago. I returned home to Mechanicsburg, awaiting word from the Army that I was to be drafted.
After arriving home, I applied at Patterson Field near Dayton (now WPAFB) for a job in the Aircraft Radio Repair division. I was hired.
I then spent 40 hours weekly at the Radio Shop, fixing radios to be put back in airplanes.
A couple months after that, I received my Draft Notice - “GREETINGS” - from “Uncle Sam”. I was to report March 1 for induction.
I was DRAFTED!
In the Radio Shop, we were told that if we received notice of induction, we should ask the Signal Officer at Patterson for a letter asking to be returned to Patterson Field, as official Radio Personnel.
I did that, and carried the letter from the Signal Officer with me to the Induction Center - in Indiana.
After the initial “hurry up and wait in line”, and the health physical, I was given special orders - along with 2 other men - to return to Patterson Field.
We traveled by bus, and arrived at Patterson late in the evening. It was March, with snow on the ground. We were directed to a Tent outside the building, and we slept the night.
I was given a furlough, while waiting for orders, then went to Mechanicsburg, and later that month, Jean and I were married in the Parsonage of our Church. My friend Bob Holman stood with me, and my sister Miriam with Jean. Both of them worked at Patterson, and were roommates in Springfield.
The next day after our wedding, I reported at Patterson, and Jean returned to work there. Jean’s cousin and her husband let us use their apartment in Springfield for a short time.
For about a month, we both commuted from Springfield to Patterson Field.
Then, I got my orders. I reported to the Base, then was sent to New Orleans, to join the 897th Signal Company Depot Aviation, to begin preparing for the journey that eventually took us to New Guinea, and Manila, Philippines. (Jean didn’t go with me. Smile!)
On October 6, 1943, we sailed from Newport News, Virginia, down the east coast, through the Panama Canal, briefly to Australia, then to New Guinea.
Previous “posts” on this blog describe those activities.
Now………..after having said all of that, was the “amalgamation person” described earlier more of a patriot than I?
Was he braver than I?
Did he serve his country better than I?
I should not be the one to answer that question, but I had better be “comfortable in my own skin” about my service to my country, as I saw it, and as it was laid out for me.
You know, he spent the entire World War II as an infantryman, fighting hand-to-hand with the enemy, got wounded and received a “purple heart” medal.
He volunteered for a dangerous assignment to “infiltrate” the enemy to find out certain strategic information, was successful, and received a “bravery medal” for his efforts.
He was so dedicated, that he received a “field promotion” to Second Lieutenant - without attending OCS (Officer Candidate School). His men could, would and did capture an enemy position so successfully that he was again promoted - to Captain.
A real hero. All of us were proud to have known him - back home as a quiet, unassuming young boy.
What was his name? It is “Legion”, that is, many individuals could fit in here.
I can’t name this individual, because he doesn’t exist, exactly as I have portrayed him. What I’ve described is an amalgamation of MANY young men, barely out of high school, during World War II. Hundreds could honestly fit in with the previous description.
True patriots - and heroes.
But, when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, I was a Senior in High School. I was graduated the following May. I went to an Electrical and Radio Technical School in Chicago, to learn radio repairing. This was to be my vocation.
This guy, (we’re talking generically here) was graduated at the same time as I. He didn’t go to Trade School. He didn’t enroll in College. He didn’t even take the summer off.
He enlisted in the Army, to “fight the Japs”.
Why did the two of us choose different paths? Did he “love his country” more than I? Was I more interested in a career to make money, than trying to help my country?
I don’t actually know the answer to these questions - but they need to be asked - by me, as well as others.
After three months, I was graduated, and was finished at Coyne Electrical and Radio trade school in Chicago. I returned home to Mechanicsburg, awaiting word from the Army that I was to be drafted.
After arriving home, I applied at Patterson Field near Dayton (now WPAFB) for a job in the Aircraft Radio Repair division. I was hired.
I then spent 40 hours weekly at the Radio Shop, fixing radios to be put back in airplanes.
A couple months after that, I received my Draft Notice - “GREETINGS” - from “Uncle Sam”. I was to report March 1 for induction.
I was DRAFTED!
In the Radio Shop, we were told that if we received notice of induction, we should ask the Signal Officer at Patterson for a letter asking to be returned to Patterson Field, as official Radio Personnel.
I did that, and carried the letter from the Signal Officer with me to the Induction Center - in Indiana.
After the initial “hurry up and wait in line”, and the health physical, I was given special orders - along with 2 other men - to return to Patterson Field.
We traveled by bus, and arrived at Patterson late in the evening. It was March, with snow on the ground. We were directed to a Tent outside the building, and we slept the night.
I was given a furlough, while waiting for orders, then went to Mechanicsburg, and later that month, Jean and I were married in the Parsonage of our Church. My friend Bob Holman stood with me, and my sister Miriam with Jean. Both of them worked at Patterson, and were roommates in Springfield.
The next day after our wedding, I reported at Patterson, and Jean returned to work there. Jean’s cousin and her husband let us use their apartment in Springfield for a short time.
For about a month, we both commuted from Springfield to Patterson Field.
Then, I got my orders. I reported to the Base, then was sent to New Orleans, to join the 897th Signal Company Depot Aviation, to begin preparing for the journey that eventually took us to New Guinea, and Manila, Philippines. (Jean didn’t go with me. Smile!)
On October 6, 1943, we sailed from Newport News, Virginia, down the east coast, through the Panama Canal, briefly to Australia, then to New Guinea.
Previous “posts” on this blog describe those activities.
Now………..after having said all of that, was the “amalgamation person” described earlier more of a patriot than I?
Was he braver than I?
Did he serve his country better than I?
I should not be the one to answer that question, but I had better be “comfortable in my own skin” about my service to my country, as I saw it, and as it was laid out for me.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Radio Ministry
Since I’ve made more than one reference on this blog, to the two main radio ministries I’ve been associated with, maybe a look farther back to the beginning might be in order.
Thinking of doing that, I can’t help but recall “The Mary Tyler Moore Show”, and the self-important newsman, Ted Baxter, when he’d say, “It all started at a little 5 watt station………..”, etc. Maybe it wasn’t a “5 watter” - seems to not even be legal - but the start of the narration is what always made me laugh.
Or Bill Cosby’s interminable comment, “I started out as a child.”
So………..“I started out in a Christian home”. My Mom and Dad, followed by my sister Miriam, were the epitome of the Christian family. I came along “riding on a wave”. I sang “Jesus Loves Me” - and others - at church, and went every Sunday.
At about age 10, my family and I drove to the city of Bellefontaine, Ohio, to attend a rally led by the ebullient preacher from Indianapolis, E. Howard Cadle. We used to listen to him on WLW every morning.
I don’t remember his message that night, nor his emphasis, but he was loud, and flowery. As is the norm for Protestant/Evangelical preachers, he never failed to give folks an opportunity to “decide for Christ”. This meeting was no different.
I need to say right here, that my sister Miriam came to Christ (got saved, as we always say) at an early age. I don’t recall how that came about, if I ever knew. But, like many things on this blog, when I can’t think of a fact or two, OFTEN, they become clear before I’ve finished the posting for the blog. (Not here yet.)
Anyway, at this meeting in Bellefontaine, when the invitation was given, Miriam INSISTED that I respond, by standing up. Remember, I was about 10, and Miriam 21. This age gap many times led her to “assist” in my upbringing - such as the time when I REFUSED to drink tomato juice that Mother gave me - as well as other such things good for me. I guess I finally relented, and drank the juice. I don’t rightly remember whether it was Mother - or Miriam - who finally got me to “surrender”.
Well……….the insistence, cajoling, pleading, and I suppose some other actions, prevailed, and I stood up. That meant, of course, that I was saved!
Not so fast!
I was TOLD that I was saved - but I didn’t FEEL saved, nor did I really BELIEVE that I was saved. It didn’t appear to me that ANYTHING happened.
But.....what was I to do?
I just went along - not really trying to deceive, but just “going along.” I was “saved”, surely, everyone thought - including me, after a time, I guess.
Fast forward to my High School Graduation. Guess what my sister’s gift to me was. A BIBLE - of course!
I opened it and read it, occasionally.
I had begun dating my future wife, Jean, while still in High School. We also went to church together. And, after graduation, I bought my Grandpa’s 1927 Model T Ford automobile for $25, and took Jean to church in it. Well…… we got as far as a block away, like downtown, then we walked the rest of the way. Jean never understood why we didn’t drive all the way. "In a Model T? Really", I thought.
As I’ve related here before, I drove a truck for Bud Perry, and then went to Coyne Electrical and Radio School, at 501 South Paulina Street in Chicago.
Finally, our old friend, Uncle Sam, wrote me a nice letter, that started out, “Greetings”. I was drafted.
A month later, Jean and I were married, in a Church Parsonage, by the Rev. Paul Wachs, with his wife Helen, Bob Holman and Miriam with us.
When I went into the Army, I took along the Bible Miriam had given me at graduation - hardly cracking it open the whole time. I did attend church services in the Army - occasionally. Hadn’t I always before? At home, Jean attended church also.
Again, “fast forward” - to 1951 - with two boys being added to our family, along the way - Jimmy and Johnny.
We had settled in our home on Pleasant Street in Mechanicsburg, OH - while I repaired radios - then televisions at the R.W. Schetter Jewelry Store - that also sold radios and TV’s. (I don’t think the apostrophe after “TV” is proper since it is not “possessive“, but It doesn’t look right without it.)
Sometime in the fall of that year, our oldest son, Jimmy (age 4), developed a sore lump on one of his lower arms. It seemed to be not a big deal, at first, but as time went on, it didn’t get any smaller. In fact, it seemed to enlarge. I don’t recall what the doctor said, but we, and Jean, especially, were worried.
Up to this point, Miriam, and her husband Stanley, regularly “witnessed” to us about Christ. But, neither of us was very interested. We had gotten a little “tired” of it, I think.
But………when trouble came - guess whom we called?
Miriam, of course!
She invited us down to Springfield, where they lived on Kramer Road. We left Jimmy and Johnny with Grandma Anderson.
Since it was December, it was dark by the time we arrived. We just sat around in their living room - and talked. That is, Miriam and Stanley talked. We listened. Thinking about Jimmy, Jean was a little “teary”, I guess.
They began telling us about Christ, and how He gave up His Life on Calvary’s Cross, to pay for our sins.
Right. I knew that. Nothing new.
What Was new, was that they began making His death on the Cross personal to US. How it affected US. How His death meant eternal life for US.
In spite of my “growing up in church”, I hadn’t a clue as to what that had to do with me - much less what I could do to benefit from it. I used to sing “Into my Heart. Into my Heart. Come into my heart, Lord Jesus”, but I didn’t “connect”.
Finally, while Stanley was trying to describe our “receiving Christ”, he handed Jean his Bible, and she reached up to take it. “That’s how you receive Christ. Will you receive Him?”, he said.
I was “flabbergasted” (A good old fashioned Mechanicsburg word.), because Jean started bawling and said, “Yes!”. She liked to never stopped crying.
I looked around, kind of in a daze, and thought, “Right. Jean did that. What about me?”
After that, we talked for maybe 3 hours more, before I was willing to let my sister hear me admit that I was a sinner. She KNEW it - and so did I. But, Oh, it was hard!
Finally, I said, “You mean that if I admit my need of Christ, and accept the Gift of Eternal Life from Him, that I will be saved?”
Yes…….DUMMY! (Not Stanley’s words, but mine right now.)
So, I did.
John 1:12 “But as many as received Him, to them gave He power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on His Name.”
When we FINALLY got home and gathered up the boys, before I went to bed, I got out the Bible Miriam had given to me 9 years earlier, and read until I nearly went to sleep.
Oh….Jimmy’s “lump” on his arm seemed to go down, with no apparent ill effect, sometime after that.
(You know, this is getting REAL long, so I think I should end here, and pick up the story in a later posting. OK?)
Thinking of doing that, I can’t help but recall “The Mary Tyler Moore Show”, and the self-important newsman, Ted Baxter, when he’d say, “It all started at a little 5 watt station………..”, etc. Maybe it wasn’t a “5 watter” - seems to not even be legal - but the start of the narration is what always made me laugh.
Or Bill Cosby’s interminable comment, “I started out as a child.”
So………..“I started out in a Christian home”. My Mom and Dad, followed by my sister Miriam, were the epitome of the Christian family. I came along “riding on a wave”. I sang “Jesus Loves Me” - and others - at church, and went every Sunday.
At about age 10, my family and I drove to the city of Bellefontaine, Ohio, to attend a rally led by the ebullient preacher from Indianapolis, E. Howard Cadle. We used to listen to him on WLW every morning.
I don’t remember his message that night, nor his emphasis, but he was loud, and flowery. As is the norm for Protestant/Evangelical preachers, he never failed to give folks an opportunity to “decide for Christ”. This meeting was no different.
I need to say right here, that my sister Miriam came to Christ (got saved, as we always say) at an early age. I don’t recall how that came about, if I ever knew. But, like many things on this blog, when I can’t think of a fact or two, OFTEN, they become clear before I’ve finished the posting for the blog. (Not here yet.)
Anyway, at this meeting in Bellefontaine, when the invitation was given, Miriam INSISTED that I respond, by standing up. Remember, I was about 10, and Miriam 21. This age gap many times led her to “assist” in my upbringing - such as the time when I REFUSED to drink tomato juice that Mother gave me - as well as other such things good for me. I guess I finally relented, and drank the juice. I don’t rightly remember whether it was Mother - or Miriam - who finally got me to “surrender”.
Well……….the insistence, cajoling, pleading, and I suppose some other actions, prevailed, and I stood up. That meant, of course, that I was saved!
Not so fast!
I was TOLD that I was saved - but I didn’t FEEL saved, nor did I really BELIEVE that I was saved. It didn’t appear to me that ANYTHING happened.
But.....what was I to do?
I just went along - not really trying to deceive, but just “going along.” I was “saved”, surely, everyone thought - including me, after a time, I guess.
Fast forward to my High School Graduation. Guess what my sister’s gift to me was. A BIBLE - of course!
I opened it and read it, occasionally.
I had begun dating my future wife, Jean, while still in High School. We also went to church together. And, after graduation, I bought my Grandpa’s 1927 Model T Ford automobile for $25, and took Jean to church in it. Well…… we got as far as a block away, like downtown, then we walked the rest of the way. Jean never understood why we didn’t drive all the way. "In a Model T? Really", I thought.
As I’ve related here before, I drove a truck for Bud Perry, and then went to Coyne Electrical and Radio School, at 501 South Paulina Street in Chicago.
Finally, our old friend, Uncle Sam, wrote me a nice letter, that started out, “Greetings”. I was drafted.
A month later, Jean and I were married, in a Church Parsonage, by the Rev. Paul Wachs, with his wife Helen, Bob Holman and Miriam with us.
When I went into the Army, I took along the Bible Miriam had given me at graduation - hardly cracking it open the whole time. I did attend church services in the Army - occasionally. Hadn’t I always before? At home, Jean attended church also.
Again, “fast forward” - to 1951 - with two boys being added to our family, along the way - Jimmy and Johnny.
We had settled in our home on Pleasant Street in Mechanicsburg, OH - while I repaired radios - then televisions at the R.W. Schetter Jewelry Store - that also sold radios and TV’s. (I don’t think the apostrophe after “TV” is proper since it is not “possessive“, but It doesn’t look right without it.)
Sometime in the fall of that year, our oldest son, Jimmy (age 4), developed a sore lump on one of his lower arms. It seemed to be not a big deal, at first, but as time went on, it didn’t get any smaller. In fact, it seemed to enlarge. I don’t recall what the doctor said, but we, and Jean, especially, were worried.
Up to this point, Miriam, and her husband Stanley, regularly “witnessed” to us about Christ. But, neither of us was very interested. We had gotten a little “tired” of it, I think.
But………when trouble came - guess whom we called?
Miriam, of course!
She invited us down to Springfield, where they lived on Kramer Road. We left Jimmy and Johnny with Grandma Anderson.
Since it was December, it was dark by the time we arrived. We just sat around in their living room - and talked. That is, Miriam and Stanley talked. We listened. Thinking about Jimmy, Jean was a little “teary”, I guess.
They began telling us about Christ, and how He gave up His Life on Calvary’s Cross, to pay for our sins.
Right. I knew that. Nothing new.
What Was new, was that they began making His death on the Cross personal to US. How it affected US. How His death meant eternal life for US.
In spite of my “growing up in church”, I hadn’t a clue as to what that had to do with me - much less what I could do to benefit from it. I used to sing “Into my Heart. Into my Heart. Come into my heart, Lord Jesus”, but I didn’t “connect”.
Finally, while Stanley was trying to describe our “receiving Christ”, he handed Jean his Bible, and she reached up to take it. “That’s how you receive Christ. Will you receive Him?”, he said.
I was “flabbergasted” (A good old fashioned Mechanicsburg word.), because Jean started bawling and said, “Yes!”. She liked to never stopped crying.
I looked around, kind of in a daze, and thought, “Right. Jean did that. What about me?”
After that, we talked for maybe 3 hours more, before I was willing to let my sister hear me admit that I was a sinner. She KNEW it - and so did I. But, Oh, it was hard!
Finally, I said, “You mean that if I admit my need of Christ, and accept the Gift of Eternal Life from Him, that I will be saved?”
Yes…….DUMMY! (Not Stanley’s words, but mine right now.)
So, I did.
John 1:12 “But as many as received Him, to them gave He power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on His Name.”
When we FINALLY got home and gathered up the boys, before I went to bed, I got out the Bible Miriam had given to me 9 years earlier, and read until I nearly went to sleep.
Oh….Jimmy’s “lump” on his arm seemed to go down, with no apparent ill effect, sometime after that.
(You know, this is getting REAL long, so I think I should end here, and pick up the story in a later posting. OK?)
Friday, January 2, 2009
Ham Radio
You’ll have to bear with me on this subject. I’m not sure I remember enough to write about it. This goes back over 50 years, to my first contact with Amateur Radio, more commonly called, “Ham Radio”. And, it’s been thirty years since I’ve had an Amateur Radio License. That means that I cannot comment on the current status of the “hobby”, as I was able to do with Cell Phones.
And, since I’m relying solely on my memory, I might be mistaken in some of the facts I write. My former associate at WEEC, Missionary Ken Anderson, now living in Florida, is going to be asked to confirm/deny some of my facts. He is STILL a Ham operator. By the time you read this on my “Blog”, Ken will have already read it.
My first contact was from John Burger, a fellow classmate of mine in High School in Mechanicsburg, OH. My guess is that he got me interested in it about 1946 or ‘47. In addition, my previously mentioned “New Guinea Tent Mate” Glen Grewell also encouraged me. Glen was a Ham for 66 years when he died at age 83, according to his daughter Marty Stover.
John got his Ham license right after the war, and he then “worked on” me, Bob Schetter and Ron Phillips there in town. Eventually, all three of us got licenses. They all lasted longer than I. Later, I’ll explain why I quit. I now remember some call signs: John Burger - W8CVM. Bob Schetter - W8HOW. Ron Phillips - W8HNY. They’re all three deceased now, sadly. I officiated at Bob’s funeral, and had prayer with Ron just before he died. John died in Florida. (Of course, someone else now has all of these call letters, including mine - two in Ohio, and one in Illinois.)
In order to get a “license”, you had to study the test material - and, learn Morse Code. (Though I would now be slow to “copy” the Code, I can still recite each letter pretty quickly.) The exam was given in Detroit, and I finally got my “ticket”, with the call letters: W8EOW.
Well, now that I have a license, what do I do? I “could” go out and buy a commercial ham radio set. Dollars!!! Right! No way.
In those days, a “true” Ham built his own set, using a Morse Code key. Voice communication came later - with the commercial sets.
So, from someplace, I got a “schematic diagram” of a Low Power transmitter. It had ONE tube, and a “key”. I built it.
One of the big costs was for a power supply. Besides AC filament voltage for the tube(s), you had to have from 50 to 500 volts of DC. Where to get these two power sources? Hmmm.
We had a “Hi FI” (so to speak) console radio in our house, that also played 78RPM records. Why not use that power? Sure. It only took maybe 4 or 5 wires to run from the HI FI to the “bread board” transmitter I built from some schematic I found in a Ham magazine.
The little “bread board”, maybe 12 inches square, had the wiring I needed for the “Tube socket” which would create the power.
I got the “board”, wires, and “tube socket”, and wired them up. What to use for a tube? Why not the 6L6 audio power amplifier tube in the HI FI? Sure! (Oh,,,,I now remember - the tube in the HI FI was a 6V6, not quite as powerful as the other. I BOUGHT a 6L6 and used it.)
I got an old base of an “octal” tube, wired it up to fit the tube base in the HI FI, took the tube from the HI FI and inserted it into the bread board, and I was in business. I got maybe 10 or 12 watts of power.
Oops!
Had to have an antenna.
Since I was going to operate on the “80 Meter band” I had to have a wire nearly 135 feet long, to get the tube to “load up” on those frequencies. Ken reminds me that this was a “half wave length”.
My fellow Ham friends joined me in stringing a long wire from our upstairs unused bedroom, all the way to the back of our lot. (Using insulators at both ends, of course.) I connected a feeder wire from the “transmitter” out the window, to the “antenna”. I was in business!
Then, I had to have a receiver to listen to any answers I might get from my transmissions. I found a “second hand” short wave radio, that would cover 80 meters. I can ALMOST remember the make and model of that used receiver, but not yet. The terms “RCA” and “125” stick in my memory. I don’t know.
As excited as I could be, I hooked up the antenna; pulled the tube out of the radio and put it in the “transmitter“; plugged in the “socket” for power; turned on the radio, and then the Short Wave Receiver.
Scanning the 80 meter band, I heard some weak signals in Morse Code. When I heard someone call, in code: “CQ, This is (call letters)” (CQ - dah-di-dah-dit, dah dah di dah) (Are you impressed?) (CQ means: “Hey guys. Contact me. I want to gab.") I then tapped out that set of call letters, followed by mine, and waited. Not right away, but after some time (coupla hours?), I finally got an answer from a ham station in Canada. (To be expected - my antenna ran east and west. Canada was on the broad side.) Didn’t converse too long. Too excited.
Ya know what? I WAS A HAM!
I just now talked to Ken Anderson, and he made some suggestions which I adopted. I don’t mean to imply that Ken thereby now endorses all the facts I posit. Both of us wondered, though, how I generated the 80 meter frequency for the transmitter, since I distinctly remember only one tube. Maybe there was a crystal in the kit. Really, I didn’t know what I was doing, other than following the schematic instructions. Wonder of wonders, it DID work!
I may think of some of the experiences later, but I should say that when we moved to Chicago in 1954, I received the call W9KAX. Had some activity there, but not much.
Then, in 1965, we moved to Springfield, and I got the call W8GQJ. By that time, my activities at church and WEEC, along with family activities, kept me from much action on the Ham front.
In those days, you got a license for 5 years, and then had to apply for renewal, while confirming that you had been actively operating. I hadn’t been, so I asked a friend at a Radio Shop in Springfield what I should do. “Simple”, he said. “Just lie, and say that you HAVE been operating. No problem. They won’t check your log.”
Right!
Now, I’m not particularly a “paragon of virtue”, but I thought and prayed about that for weeks - and I just could NOT do it.
So, my Ham experience has ended, and other activities have taken its place.
Psalms 51:6 “…Thou desirest truth in the inward parts.”
Gulp!
And, since I’m relying solely on my memory, I might be mistaken in some of the facts I write. My former associate at WEEC, Missionary Ken Anderson, now living in Florida, is going to be asked to confirm/deny some of my facts. He is STILL a Ham operator. By the time you read this on my “Blog”, Ken will have already read it.
My first contact was from John Burger, a fellow classmate of mine in High School in Mechanicsburg, OH. My guess is that he got me interested in it about 1946 or ‘47. In addition, my previously mentioned “New Guinea Tent Mate” Glen Grewell also encouraged me. Glen was a Ham for 66 years when he died at age 83, according to his daughter Marty Stover.
John got his Ham license right after the war, and he then “worked on” me, Bob Schetter and Ron Phillips there in town. Eventually, all three of us got licenses. They all lasted longer than I. Later, I’ll explain why I quit. I now remember some call signs: John Burger - W8CVM. Bob Schetter - W8HOW. Ron Phillips - W8HNY. They’re all three deceased now, sadly. I officiated at Bob’s funeral, and had prayer with Ron just before he died. John died in Florida. (Of course, someone else now has all of these call letters, including mine - two in Ohio, and one in Illinois.)
In order to get a “license”, you had to study the test material - and, learn Morse Code. (Though I would now be slow to “copy” the Code, I can still recite each letter pretty quickly.) The exam was given in Detroit, and I finally got my “ticket”, with the call letters: W8EOW.
Well, now that I have a license, what do I do? I “could” go out and buy a commercial ham radio set. Dollars!!! Right! No way.
In those days, a “true” Ham built his own set, using a Morse Code key. Voice communication came later - with the commercial sets.
So, from someplace, I got a “schematic diagram” of a Low Power transmitter. It had ONE tube, and a “key”. I built it.
One of the big costs was for a power supply. Besides AC filament voltage for the tube(s), you had to have from 50 to 500 volts of DC. Where to get these two power sources? Hmmm.
We had a “Hi FI” (so to speak) console radio in our house, that also played 78RPM records. Why not use that power? Sure. It only took maybe 4 or 5 wires to run from the HI FI to the “bread board” transmitter I built from some schematic I found in a Ham magazine.
The little “bread board”, maybe 12 inches square, had the wiring I needed for the “Tube socket” which would create the power.
I got the “board”, wires, and “tube socket”, and wired them up. What to use for a tube? Why not the 6L6 audio power amplifier tube in the HI FI? Sure! (Oh,,,,I now remember - the tube in the HI FI was a 6V6, not quite as powerful as the other. I BOUGHT a 6L6 and used it.)
I got an old base of an “octal” tube, wired it up to fit the tube base in the HI FI, took the tube from the HI FI and inserted it into the bread board, and I was in business. I got maybe 10 or 12 watts of power.
Oops!
Had to have an antenna.
Since I was going to operate on the “80 Meter band” I had to have a wire nearly 135 feet long, to get the tube to “load up” on those frequencies. Ken reminds me that this was a “half wave length”.
My fellow Ham friends joined me in stringing a long wire from our upstairs unused bedroom, all the way to the back of our lot. (Using insulators at both ends, of course.) I connected a feeder wire from the “transmitter” out the window, to the “antenna”. I was in business!
Then, I had to have a receiver to listen to any answers I might get from my transmissions. I found a “second hand” short wave radio, that would cover 80 meters. I can ALMOST remember the make and model of that used receiver, but not yet. The terms “RCA” and “125” stick in my memory. I don’t know.
As excited as I could be, I hooked up the antenna; pulled the tube out of the radio and put it in the “transmitter“; plugged in the “socket” for power; turned on the radio, and then the Short Wave Receiver.
Scanning the 80 meter band, I heard some weak signals in Morse Code. When I heard someone call, in code: “CQ, This is (call letters)” (CQ - dah-di-dah-dit, dah dah di dah) (Are you impressed?) (CQ means: “Hey guys. Contact me. I want to gab.") I then tapped out that set of call letters, followed by mine, and waited. Not right away, but after some time (coupla hours?), I finally got an answer from a ham station in Canada. (To be expected - my antenna ran east and west. Canada was on the broad side.) Didn’t converse too long. Too excited.
Ya know what? I WAS A HAM!
I just now talked to Ken Anderson, and he made some suggestions which I adopted. I don’t mean to imply that Ken thereby now endorses all the facts I posit. Both of us wondered, though, how I generated the 80 meter frequency for the transmitter, since I distinctly remember only one tube. Maybe there was a crystal in the kit. Really, I didn’t know what I was doing, other than following the schematic instructions. Wonder of wonders, it DID work!
I may think of some of the experiences later, but I should say that when we moved to Chicago in 1954, I received the call W9KAX. Had some activity there, but not much.
Then, in 1965, we moved to Springfield, and I got the call W8GQJ. By that time, my activities at church and WEEC, along with family activities, kept me from much action on the Ham front.
In those days, you got a license for 5 years, and then had to apply for renewal, while confirming that you had been actively operating. I hadn’t been, so I asked a friend at a Radio Shop in Springfield what I should do. “Simple”, he said. “Just lie, and say that you HAVE been operating. No problem. They won’t check your log.”
Right!
Now, I’m not particularly a “paragon of virtue”, but I thought and prayed about that for weeks - and I just could NOT do it.
So, my Ham experience has ended, and other activities have taken its place.
Psalms 51:6 “…Thou desirest truth in the inward parts.”
Gulp!
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Truck Driving
I mentioned in a couple of my “postings” that during World War II, I drove a Jeep and Weapons Carrier in New Guinea and Manila, because I had a truck driving experience just out of High School.
I’ll never tell you how I got connected with Bud Perry and his trucking firm at such a young age, but as a Senior, and then graduate of High School, Bud invited me to try out as a driver.
In those days, Bud had two trucks - both Chevrolets, I believe. The one he drove was the newest, and heaviest and the most difficult to drive. The second one was older, smaller and more to my abilities.
In my experience with Bud, I only remember 3 different things we hauled: Coal, grain and limestone fertilizer.
We got chunk coal in those days, from Southern Ohio. Down below Chillicothe, I believe. The first time down there, Bud and I both rode together in the second truck - with me driving. IT WAS A TRAINING EXPERIENCE!
The empty truck going down was no problem. Hardly any more difficult than driving my dad’s 1937 V-8. But………on the way back - dangerous! There were hills up and down, don’t you know. To make the next hill, you had to drive wide open down this one, then start up the next one, “shifting down” as you climbed.
Bud was sitting next to me, gritting his teeth, I am sure. He guided me down the hill, then up the next - sweating profusely. (It was summer).
“Down shifting” wasn’t too difficult - after you got on to it. You pushed the clutch, sped up the motor, shifted down to “third”, then popped the clutch - smoothly, hopefully. Then, you had to “down shift” again, to second gear - push the clutch, rev the motor, shift down. The first couple were NOT so smooth. And, on one of them, we hit a pot hole, and got a large bump. Bud said, “Oh boy!”, and smacked his right hand on his left palm.
We made it up the hill all right, and the next one was a little easier. I was now “experienced” (after ONE hill?).
We made it home ok - though I think Bud “aged” a little (would you believe “a lot”?)
Back in Mechanicsburg, we drove over on West Race Street to Bill Westfall’s house - then to the back and the coal bin. Did I say we hauled “chunk coal”? BIG chunks, some of them.
Backing up to the bin, we got out our shovels and “pitched” the coal into the bin. I was a little guy (I still am), and though Bud used a size 12 scoop, I could only handle a 10. I think maybe I slept right through the next night.
The next time, we took two trucks - Bud in one, and I in the other. Same experience, but I was by myself - several truck lengths behind Bud. We made it OK, and dropped off the coal at two different places.
Then, the next thing (not necessarily in this order) was wheat or oats hauling. Combines were just arriving in our area, and Bud’s father-in-law, Harold Venrick, operated one of them, on contract for several farmers. For them, it beat using a binder to cut, sheaf, “shock” the wheat, then invite all the neighbor farmers in for a “thrashing“, we called it. It was now all done in one operation, and one day.
We just pulled the trucks up to the combine when his bin got full, and the operator moved the “spout”(I can’t remember what they called them), and loaded our trucks.
That was easy - as was the dumping of the grain at the “elevator”. We just drove the loaded truck up to the elevator, John Wiant came out with an accurate “peck measure” to find the moisture content of the grain, then we drove into the elevator with the front wheels on to a “lift”. We got out of the truck, and the front wheels were lifted up, so the grain could “slide out”, into the elevator’s “innards”.
Easy. Right.
UNLESS, we had to put the grain in the farmer’s barn. No lift, just Bud and I with our shovels. It wasn’t just sliding the grain out the back onto the ground. Oh no! It was LIFTING the shovel-ful of grain UP AND OVER the sideboards of the truck, into a “granary”. (Bud and I used to argue over whether it was a “grainery”, or “granary”.)
Of course, I used the number 10 shovel - Bud the 12. I had to rest more frequently than Bud - after all, he was “experienced” and “strong”. I was just an 18 year old kid.
We got it shoveled in, though, and I REALLY slept that night.
The third thing I rememer hauling for Bud was Limestone Fertilizer.
Getting it in the truck was not a problem. The elevator just dumped it in. Getting it out, however, was another matter. It was fine, chalky stuff, and the wind just loved to “swish it around”.
It had to be “spread out” over a farmer’s field - evenly distributed, not in “clumps”.
How to do that?
With a “spreader”, of course. Easy, right?
WRONG!
How do you suppose the fertilizer got into the spreader? I SHOVELED it in, that’s how! From the back of the truck, with my number 10 scoop shovel.
Who drove the truck? BUD.
We pulled the “spreader” behind the truck, while I shoveled in the fertilizer - raising enough dust to cloud the sun! I had to wear a mask. It still got in my mouth. Another guy, I don’t remember who, said, “Mike, you need a good chaw of tobacco to keep down the dust in your mouth”. Right! I was willing to try almost anything to help. I tried it. AWFUL tasting stuff - but it did cut down the dust in my mouth. Never tried it again - the “chaw” that is.
I started each day with Bud rather early. My house was down on Sandusky street, and Bud’s home and garage were up on Pleasant Street - maybe 3 blocks away. I walked.
On the way, I passed Jean’s house (we had just begun dating). When I got in front of her house, I gave my “whipporwill” whistle for her. She heard it every time. Kind of a “poor man’s flirting”.
I’m glad I didn’t choose “truck driving” for a living. I couldn’t handle one of those “18 wheelers”.
The CB talk might have been interesting, though.
I’ll never tell you how I got connected with Bud Perry and his trucking firm at such a young age, but as a Senior, and then graduate of High School, Bud invited me to try out as a driver.
In those days, Bud had two trucks - both Chevrolets, I believe. The one he drove was the newest, and heaviest and the most difficult to drive. The second one was older, smaller and more to my abilities.
In my experience with Bud, I only remember 3 different things we hauled: Coal, grain and limestone fertilizer.
We got chunk coal in those days, from Southern Ohio. Down below Chillicothe, I believe. The first time down there, Bud and I both rode together in the second truck - with me driving. IT WAS A TRAINING EXPERIENCE!
The empty truck going down was no problem. Hardly any more difficult than driving my dad’s 1937 V-8. But………on the way back - dangerous! There were hills up and down, don’t you know. To make the next hill, you had to drive wide open down this one, then start up the next one, “shifting down” as you climbed.
Bud was sitting next to me, gritting his teeth, I am sure. He guided me down the hill, then up the next - sweating profusely. (It was summer).
“Down shifting” wasn’t too difficult - after you got on to it. You pushed the clutch, sped up the motor, shifted down to “third”, then popped the clutch - smoothly, hopefully. Then, you had to “down shift” again, to second gear - push the clutch, rev the motor, shift down. The first couple were NOT so smooth. And, on one of them, we hit a pot hole, and got a large bump. Bud said, “Oh boy!”, and smacked his right hand on his left palm.
We made it up the hill all right, and the next one was a little easier. I was now “experienced” (after ONE hill?).
We made it home ok - though I think Bud “aged” a little (would you believe “a lot”?)
Back in Mechanicsburg, we drove over on West Race Street to Bill Westfall’s house - then to the back and the coal bin. Did I say we hauled “chunk coal”? BIG chunks, some of them.
Backing up to the bin, we got out our shovels and “pitched” the coal into the bin. I was a little guy (I still am), and though Bud used a size 12 scoop, I could only handle a 10. I think maybe I slept right through the next night.
The next time, we took two trucks - Bud in one, and I in the other. Same experience, but I was by myself - several truck lengths behind Bud. We made it OK, and dropped off the coal at two different places.
Then, the next thing (not necessarily in this order) was wheat or oats hauling. Combines were just arriving in our area, and Bud’s father-in-law, Harold Venrick, operated one of them, on contract for several farmers. For them, it beat using a binder to cut, sheaf, “shock” the wheat, then invite all the neighbor farmers in for a “thrashing“, we called it. It was now all done in one operation, and one day.
We just pulled the trucks up to the combine when his bin got full, and the operator moved the “spout”(I can’t remember what they called them), and loaded our trucks.
That was easy - as was the dumping of the grain at the “elevator”. We just drove the loaded truck up to the elevator, John Wiant came out with an accurate “peck measure” to find the moisture content of the grain, then we drove into the elevator with the front wheels on to a “lift”. We got out of the truck, and the front wheels were lifted up, so the grain could “slide out”, into the elevator’s “innards”.
Easy. Right.
UNLESS, we had to put the grain in the farmer’s barn. No lift, just Bud and I with our shovels. It wasn’t just sliding the grain out the back onto the ground. Oh no! It was LIFTING the shovel-ful of grain UP AND OVER the sideboards of the truck, into a “granary”. (Bud and I used to argue over whether it was a “grainery”, or “granary”.)
Of course, I used the number 10 shovel - Bud the 12. I had to rest more frequently than Bud - after all, he was “experienced” and “strong”. I was just an 18 year old kid.
We got it shoveled in, though, and I REALLY slept that night.
The third thing I rememer hauling for Bud was Limestone Fertilizer.
Getting it in the truck was not a problem. The elevator just dumped it in. Getting it out, however, was another matter. It was fine, chalky stuff, and the wind just loved to “swish it around”.
It had to be “spread out” over a farmer’s field - evenly distributed, not in “clumps”.
How to do that?
With a “spreader”, of course. Easy, right?
WRONG!
How do you suppose the fertilizer got into the spreader? I SHOVELED it in, that’s how! From the back of the truck, with my number 10 scoop shovel.
Who drove the truck? BUD.
We pulled the “spreader” behind the truck, while I shoveled in the fertilizer - raising enough dust to cloud the sun! I had to wear a mask. It still got in my mouth. Another guy, I don’t remember who, said, “Mike, you need a good chaw of tobacco to keep down the dust in your mouth”. Right! I was willing to try almost anything to help. I tried it. AWFUL tasting stuff - but it did cut down the dust in my mouth. Never tried it again - the “chaw” that is.
I started each day with Bud rather early. My house was down on Sandusky street, and Bud’s home and garage were up on Pleasant Street - maybe 3 blocks away. I walked.
On the way, I passed Jean’s house (we had just begun dating). When I got in front of her house, I gave my “whipporwill” whistle for her. She heard it every time. Kind of a “poor man’s flirting”.
I’m glad I didn’t choose “truck driving” for a living. I couldn’t handle one of those “18 wheelers”.
The CB talk might have been interesting, though.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
