The type of friendships that are found in a church go beyond earthly . . because they have heavenly connectons. I often find myself separated over the years from a dear friend . . only to renew that acquaintance and to find that its just as strong as ever.
I recently reconnected with my friend Bob Craig, if only online and through his blog. It's a good one at http://www.claybreadbox.blogspot.com/. It was so refreshing for me to remember the great times that we have spent together. It puts a lump in my heart as well as my throat. As I think of Bob and Catherine and their wonderful children, I am reminded that this is just a simple picture of what heaven will be like. We'll gather as the family of God around the throne to worship our risen Savior. I think there will be a lump in our hearts as we worship together.
After moving back to Texas following a lifetime in the far country, we were able to re-up and become close friends with our German friends, the Holsingers. They are really not from Germany, but they are from the far north of Pennsylvania and Ohio, and they were dear friends of ours back in the Hurst days. They went on many mission trips with us when our families were young, but we had been out of close touch over the years. Terry went through some major open heart surgery, moved to California for a time, and then came back to settle again in Texas. Terry's ancestry is with the Brethren Church, but they chose to become very faithful Baptists when there was no "home" church for them. We travel with them now, and they are dear friends in Christ. They are the type of friends that cannot be explained. Lump to the heart?
I talked recently with my dear friend Dayton King who worked for the Baptist Convention of New Mexico for many years. He is retiring at the end of October, and the two of us talked together of the "good old days" in denominational life. You can tell we're both getting old because we used the term "good old days." We've traveled lots of miles together; he is a faithful friend who has given his life to reach others for Christ.
Wouldn't it be terrible to not have close Christian friends? I relish the opportunity of earthly friends . . who are friends for eternity.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
THE CLASS OF 58
I graduated from high school in 1957, and RL graduated in 1958, and we're now living back in our home town. She has close relationships with some of her classmates from that period, and they get togther often for eating out, etc. We were with about 30 of them recently; I was really surprised how old some of them looked. I just don't understand why they have aged so much. Oh well, I'll just keep on NOT looking in the mirror.
Here's a good one from a lady:
I was sitting in the waiting room for my first appointment with a new dentist. I noticed his DDS diploma, which bore his full name.
Suddenly, I remembered a tall, handsome, dark-haired boy with the same name had been in my high school class some 40-odd years ago. Could he be the same guy that I had a secret crush on, way back then?
Upon seeing him, however, I quickly discarded any such thought. This balding, gray-haired man with the deeply lined face was way too old to have been my classmate. Hmmm—or could he??
After he examined my teeth, I asked him if he had attended Central High School.
“Yes. Yes, I did.” he gleamed with pride.
“When did you graduate?” I asked.
He answered, “In 1958. Why do you ask?”
“You were in my class!” I exclaimed.
He looked at me closely.
And then, that miserable, near-sighted, ugly, old, wrinkled rascal asked, “WHAT DID YOU TEACH?”
Suddenly, I remembered a tall, handsome, dark-haired boy with the same name had been in my high school class some 40-odd years ago. Could he be the same guy that I had a secret crush on, way back then?
Upon seeing him, however, I quickly discarded any such thought. This balding, gray-haired man with the deeply lined face was way too old to have been my classmate. Hmmm—or could he??
After he examined my teeth, I asked him if he had attended Central High School.
“Yes. Yes, I did.” he gleamed with pride.
“When did you graduate?” I asked.
He answered, “In 1958. Why do you ask?”
“You were in my class!” I exclaimed.
He looked at me closely.
And then, that miserable, near-sighted, ugly, old, wrinkled rascal asked, “WHAT DID YOU TEACH?”
RL's 50th Anniversary Homecoming is October 16-18, 2008 at Weatherford High School.
That's Barbara Moore Owens with RL . . an old friend. She played the organ at our wedding. I enjoy getting together with some of the old gang; we retell the same stories and talk about the same ailments. The older we get the more we look back.
That's Barbara Moore Owens with RL . . an old friend. She played the organ at our wedding. I enjoy getting together with some of the old gang; we retell the same stories and talk about the same ailments. The older we get the more we look back.
JOHN MCKAY - MUSIC EVANGELIST
John McKay grew up in west Texas and in north Fort Worth, and he is a tremendously talented musician and singer. As a young man, he sang in the Dallas Music Hall musicals and was invited to New York to pursue a music career on the stage. But something was wrong with that plan.
Instead of heading to the "big time", John followed God's call and committed his life to music ministry in Baptist churches and crusades. He wrote some wonderful music, he produced some great albums and books of music, and he has served faithfully for many years. John is well known and loved all across the Southern Baptist Convention.
I worked with some of John's children while serving in Hurst, Texas many years ago, and I just completed an interim pastor position and worked with John for 8 months. I recently had lunch with John, and we discussed our years of ministry. His story is very similar to mine, that is, except for the fact that he is a great soloist. Just like me, he heard the call of God on his life, and he has remained true to it. Now in his 70s, John is serving as the interim music director at Friendship Baptist Church in Weatherford. The people there love him, and he helps them to sing music of the church from the depths of the heart.
Just a sidelight . . for many years, Richey Craig of the Baytown Craig clan has played the piano for John. Richey continues to be the pianist at Wedgewood Baptist Church in Fort Worth.
John and Richey and others others like them are just the reason I share this blog. I want you to know many of God's faithful servants who have touched my life. I'm glad I've become good friends with John McKay and Richey Craig. John and Richey are persons who understood the call of God was for their entire lives. They just keep on keeping on!
Instead of heading to the "big time", John followed God's call and committed his life to music ministry in Baptist churches and crusades. He wrote some wonderful music, he produced some great albums and books of music, and he has served faithfully for many years. John is well known and loved all across the Southern Baptist Convention.
I worked with some of John's children while serving in Hurst, Texas many years ago, and I just completed an interim pastor position and worked with John for 8 months. I recently had lunch with John, and we discussed our years of ministry. His story is very similar to mine, that is, except for the fact that he is a great soloist. Just like me, he heard the call of God on his life, and he has remained true to it. Now in his 70s, John is serving as the interim music director at Friendship Baptist Church in Weatherford. The people there love him, and he helps them to sing music of the church from the depths of the heart.
Just a sidelight . . for many years, Richey Craig of the Baytown Craig clan has played the piano for John. Richey continues to be the pianist at Wedgewood Baptist Church in Fort Worth.
John and Richey and others others like them are just the reason I share this blog. I want you to know many of God's faithful servants who have touched my life. I'm glad I've become good friends with John McKay and Richey Craig. John and Richey are persons who understood the call of God was for their entire lives. They just keep on keeping on!
Sunday, September 21, 2008
OFFERING FOR STATE MISSIONS
I just got off the phone with a call to Nicy Murphy. For you Texans, Nicy Murphy is the Mary Hill Davis of Colorado. The annual Colorado offering in September is called The Nicy Murphy State Missions Offering. I never will forget when Kelli was in high school, and she was able to meet Nicy Murphy. Since we had arrived from Texas, she was amazed that Nicy Murphy was a real person and that she was actually alive. Kelli had obviously never been able to never met Mary Hill Davis.
That was about 20 years ago, and Nicy is still alive. I remember kidding Nicy, who was a member of our church in Colorado, about her age. I often would ask how old she was, but she always declined to give me an answer. Today, as we spoke on the phone, she happily told me that she was now 97 years of age. She has a goal of reaching 100; she continues to write and work on many projects. She said she was running out of time to get it all done.
Nicy lives back in her home town of Guymon, Oklahoma, but for many years she travelled throughout the Rocky Mountain states working with Woman's Missionary Union. She never married, but she gave her life to starting new work in Montana and the Dakotas and Wyoming and Colorado and wherever possible. She was a true pioneer in ministry in the Colorado Convention and in the Northern Plains Convention.
Nicy wrote a wonderful little book about her years of ministry. The Flip Side or Workin' for the Lord ain't all that dull tells some funny stories of driving through the snow, flying from state to state with Phil Card as pilot, leading conferences in remote places, and just doing the Lord's work. One of the funnest stories is of the lingerie salesman who wanted to give her a free bra. There's more to the story, but you'll just have to read it. If you can find one of her books, read it. It'll leave you laughing and also inspired.
I love Nicy Murphy. She gave her life to share missions all over the western part of the United States.
Thank you Nicy for being faithful to God's call to your life. You did good! Keep it up!
That was about 20 years ago, and Nicy is still alive. I remember kidding Nicy, who was a member of our church in Colorado, about her age. I often would ask how old she was, but she always declined to give me an answer. Today, as we spoke on the phone, she happily told me that she was now 97 years of age. She has a goal of reaching 100; she continues to write and work on many projects. She said she was running out of time to get it all done.
Nicy lives back in her home town of Guymon, Oklahoma, but for many years she travelled throughout the Rocky Mountain states working with Woman's Missionary Union. She never married, but she gave her life to starting new work in Montana and the Dakotas and Wyoming and Colorado and wherever possible. She was a true pioneer in ministry in the Colorado Convention and in the Northern Plains Convention.
Nicy wrote a wonderful little book about her years of ministry. The Flip Side or Workin' for the Lord ain't all that dull tells some funny stories of driving through the snow, flying from state to state with Phil Card as pilot, leading conferences in remote places, and just doing the Lord's work. One of the funnest stories is of the lingerie salesman who wanted to give her a free bra. There's more to the story, but you'll just have to read it. If you can find one of her books, read it. It'll leave you laughing and also inspired.
I love Nicy Murphy. She gave her life to share missions all over the western part of the United States.
Thank you Nicy for being faithful to God's call to your life. You did good! Keep it up!
Thursday, September 18, 2008
NEW KNEE
I can hear the theme from the old TV program "The Twilight Zone". Listen and you can hear that theme in your brain . . "new knee . . new knee . . new knee". I don't guess Rod Sterling was thinking about this modern age when new knees are common, but getting one does seem like a twilight zone experience. My brother just had a second one "installed" at the local hospital, and my brother in law will soon get two new knees. Who would have thunk it?
This world of technology spins my head. I distinctly remember the first computer that I used back in the 1980s. The personal computer wasn't even evented until 1980, and it was certainly a primitive contraption. I can almost hear the twilight zone theme in my brain . . "no-nee . . no-nee . . n0-nee". We thought it was wonderful that you could actually "type" and make corrections before anything was printed. That was pretty amazing and new age to all of us. We seemed to be in the twilight zone.
My dear friend Don Perry did some early computer programming in the early 1970s. He actually had a program where we could call the "main frame" in Houston and play golf on the telephone. Now it wasn't Tiger Wood golf; there were no actual visuals. The program would just tell you how many yards you had hit the ball and if it was in the fairway. It was primitive, but as I remember, it a lot of fun. We thought we were in the big time.
I wonder what the world will look like another 20 years from now. People now can have new knees, new hips, new hearts, new livers and kidneys, new legs and arms and hands, and a thousand other things. A person can even have a new heart. Wouldn't it be wonderful if the doctor could stick in a new person . . one who was "new" all over. Wow, that's what Christ does when he comes into a life. He makes us a brand new person.
I've had a new hip (twice on the same side) back in 2001. I've lost some other "parts" along the way. I really don't want any more new parts. I surely do want to keep the ones that I have. No-nee . . no-nee . . no-nee.
This world of technology spins my head. I distinctly remember the first computer that I used back in the 1980s. The personal computer wasn't even evented until 1980, and it was certainly a primitive contraption. I can almost hear the twilight zone theme in my brain . . "no-nee . . no-nee . . n0-nee". We thought it was wonderful that you could actually "type" and make corrections before anything was printed. That was pretty amazing and new age to all of us. We seemed to be in the twilight zone.
My dear friend Don Perry did some early computer programming in the early 1970s. He actually had a program where we could call the "main frame" in Houston and play golf on the telephone. Now it wasn't Tiger Wood golf; there were no actual visuals. The program would just tell you how many yards you had hit the ball and if it was in the fairway. It was primitive, but as I remember, it a lot of fun. We thought we were in the big time.
I wonder what the world will look like another 20 years from now. People now can have new knees, new hips, new hearts, new livers and kidneys, new legs and arms and hands, and a thousand other things. A person can even have a new heart. Wouldn't it be wonderful if the doctor could stick in a new person . . one who was "new" all over. Wow, that's what Christ does when he comes into a life. He makes us a brand new person.
I've had a new hip (twice on the same side) back in 2001. I've lost some other "parts" along the way. I really don't want any more new parts. I surely do want to keep the ones that I have. No-nee . . no-nee . . no-nee.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
UNCLE M.J. AT PEARL HARBOR
I was born in 1939, and that was just at the same time that my Uncle M.J. joined the navy as a 17 year old from the dryness of west Texas. As one of 14 brothers and sisters who had barely survived the misery of the depression, he was probably looking for a new adventure. He found it in the order and good food of the U.S. Navy, and it wasn't long before he found himself as a 16" gunner on the U.S.S. Maryland anchored at Pearl Harbor.
The U.S.S. Maryland was parked just inside the U.S.S. Oklahoma at Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, and M.J., who was a turret gunner on a 16" gun, survived the attack. The battleship escaped from the harbor and headed for Washington state where it was reconditioned and prepared for battle. It then headed back to the Pacific where it bombarded island to island for the remainder of the war. By the time the war ended, Mike was a 23 year old veteran who had seen his great amount of death and destruction. He often told some of those stories, but I believe he kept many inside because of their depth of horror.
Following the war, the U.S.S. Maryland returned to Washington where it was decomissioned and placed in dry dock. Mike placed on a bedroom wall a 12x18 inch plaque from his gun turret on the U.S.S. Maryland. He had taken it in his duffle bag as he left his "home" for the final time. It was a wonderful remembrance of his years of service.
My uncle Mike, as the U.S. Navy named him, died on Tuesday, Septmeber 16. RL and I will attend his memorial service in Littlefield, Texas this Saturday. We will also visit the Lamb County Veterans Memorial where his name appears with those of five of his brothers. They all came home from the great wars.
Mike was truly one of the greatest generation. I will miss him.
I'll use a future blog to tell some more of his story. It is fascinating.
The U.S.S. Maryland was parked just inside the U.S.S. Oklahoma at Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, and M.J., who was a turret gunner on a 16" gun, survived the attack. The battleship escaped from the harbor and headed for Washington state where it was reconditioned and prepared for battle. It then headed back to the Pacific where it bombarded island to island for the remainder of the war. By the time the war ended, Mike was a 23 year old veteran who had seen his great amount of death and destruction. He often told some of those stories, but I believe he kept many inside because of their depth of horror.
Following the war, the U.S.S. Maryland returned to Washington where it was decomissioned and placed in dry dock. Mike placed on a bedroom wall a 12x18 inch plaque from his gun turret on the U.S.S. Maryland. He had taken it in his duffle bag as he left his "home" for the final time. It was a wonderful remembrance of his years of service.
My uncle Mike, as the U.S. Navy named him, died on Tuesday, Septmeber 16. RL and I will attend his memorial service in Littlefield, Texas this Saturday. We will also visit the Lamb County Veterans Memorial where his name appears with those of five of his brothers. They all came home from the great wars.
Mike was truly one of the greatest generation. I will miss him.
I'll use a future blog to tell some more of his story. It is fascinating.
Monday, September 15, 2008
THE STAR SPANGLED BANNER
I'm watching the Cowboys play the Eagles . . and a 20 year old "singing sensation" just finished the national anthem. It reminded me of church, and here's the reason!
Anytime in church that a soloist . . or a music leader . . or a praise team . . or a choir . . or a pastor . . or a person making the announcements . . or anyone who is standing up in front of the worshipper . . decides to focus on themself insead of God . . they have missed the point.
It's obvious that the girl who was singing had a good voice, but I didn't want to hear all of the trills and thrills and additions. I wanted to hear the national anthem sung in honor of our country. She missed the point.
Here's the reminder. When we worship, quit concentrating on self and concentrate on Jehovah God. Then we won't miss the point.
Anytime in church that a soloist . . or a music leader . . or a praise team . . or a choir . . or a pastor . . or a person making the announcements . . or anyone who is standing up in front of the worshipper . . decides to focus on themself insead of God . . they have missed the point.
It's obvious that the girl who was singing had a good voice, but I didn't want to hear all of the trills and thrills and additions. I wanted to hear the national anthem sung in honor of our country. She missed the point.
Here's the reminder. When we worship, quit concentrating on self and concentrate on Jehovah God. Then we won't miss the point.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
THE CHURCH IS DISRUPTED
The reason God's people gather together at the church is to worship. We come together so we can get our minds off of the problems of the world; we come to think of God and his goodness and greatness. That's the plan. It often doesn't happen that way.
I remember the time when a man disrupted a revival service to yell about his disagreement with what was being preached. He had been in the service but had left a little earlier. I was seated on the platform, and I wondered why he didn't return. I just assumed he didn't want to be there any longer. I was shaken out of those thoughts when he rushed into the front of the auditorium as he was screaming and yelling. He came around right where I was sitting, and I immediately jumped up and grabbed him by the arm. This was before the days when we worried about someone actually entering with a gun, and I didn't even think about him hurting me. I did ask myself, "Where is Bill Ivy?" Bill was a superintendent of a local coal mine, he was a deacon, and he was a leader of men. Just as I had the question about Bill, I turned to look and there he was. He and two other men came to help and grabbed the man. We pulled him out of the auditorium and asked him to quieten down, but he continued to yell and cause a disturbance. After getting him outside and being unsuccesful in our efforts, we called the local police who transferred him to the city jail. Oh well, so much for a quiet worship service.
Churches are prime candidates for robberies; in today's society most churches have installed some type of security system. In churches I've served in the past, we have lost sound equipment, cash, video equipment, and anything else that could be sold for a profit. We had so maky break-ins in one church that I told the staff to quit locking the doors to their offices because every time there was a burglary the crooks would just kick in and ruin the door jambs.
At the same church we once had a big old safe stolen. We didn't have much in the safe, but we collected a small amount from the insurance company. It wasn't long until the Sheriff's Department called to tell us they had found the safe unopened in the river bottom. The door was messed up and not able to be fixed. I knew I would have to report it back to the insurance company; I just told the Sheriff's Department to keep it as a gift from us.
In one church we had money stolen from purses in the choir room, and we determined to solve the crime. We actually set up a sting operation by leaving some of the men on watch by the choir rooom during church, and it wasn't too many Sundays until we caught our thieves. I'll always remember the day when Mac Morrison came to the back of the auditorium during a service and motioned for me to leave my place on the platform. He had caught some young men with their hands in the purses, and they immediately made a trip to the police station. (Above is a picture of Mac feeding deer in his back yard in New Braunfels. YES, Mac did look a little different when he caught the thieves, but this is the only picture that I have.)
It's good to remember that through all the disruption, God is still in control.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
HANGING AROUND THE CHURCH
It's been my privilege to hang around the church and church people most of my life, and I have lots of stories to tell. For those who don't understand the church of Jesus Christ and who don't know that Christians can have lots of fun, this may come as a surprise.
We as Baptists believe in the Biblical command to "baptize" people in water. The Greek word actually means to "dip" people under water. Sprinking is something of a compromise, and we as Baptists are very involved in lots of water. An unchurched man came by our church in Colorado and wanted to know what that thing was up behind the pulpit; he had never seen a baptistry and didn't understand that we filled it with water in order to "dip" people. And, by the way, it is not a secret event. We want everyone to see baptism as a testimony of faith.
There are literally hundreds of funny stories about the disasters that occur when you get that much water . . and that many people . . and the need for warming the water . . and the need for filling up the baptistry with water. Every church that I know has probably had a small flood caused by an overflowing baptistry. I don't really have time to tell all of those, but I encourage you to find a local Baptist pastor who will gladly tell you some of these wild stories. Most of them will let you know how wet a nice suit can be when the pastor's waders begin to leak. One of the best storytellers about baptism is the music evangelist John McKay. He has lots of them.
I remember the day I arrived at a new church where I was to serve as a Youth Pastor, only to find my office completely filled with newspapers. The youth, along with some help from many of the adults, had spent hours of labor in opening up newspapers to fill the office. It was a sight to behold. Welcome Sam.
We as Baptists believe in the Biblical command to "baptize" people in water. The Greek word actually means to "dip" people under water. Sprinking is something of a compromise, and we as Baptists are very involved in lots of water. An unchurched man came by our church in Colorado and wanted to know what that thing was up behind the pulpit; he had never seen a baptistry and didn't understand that we filled it with water in order to "dip" people. And, by the way, it is not a secret event. We want everyone to see baptism as a testimony of faith.
There are literally hundreds of funny stories about the disasters that occur when you get that much water . . and that many people . . and the need for warming the water . . and the need for filling up the baptistry with water. Every church that I know has probably had a small flood caused by an overflowing baptistry. I don't really have time to tell all of those, but I encourage you to find a local Baptist pastor who will gladly tell you some of these wild stories. Most of them will let you know how wet a nice suit can be when the pastor's waders begin to leak. One of the best storytellers about baptism is the music evangelist John McKay. He has lots of them.
I remember the day I arrived at a new church where I was to serve as a Youth Pastor, only to find my office completely filled with newspapers. The youth, along with some help from many of the adults, had spent hours of labor in opening up newspapers to fill the office. It was a sight to behold. Welcome Sam.
Reggie Brewer was a sponsor on one of our youth trips, and we took him to the airport for an early return home. Reggie had his guitar, and we all gathered around him and swooned over his supposed popularity. Most of the people watching thought he was someone famous, and they began to gather around and ask for autographs. I believe Reggie rushed onto plane and tried to hide so no one else could find him. He didn't mind being popular, but he just couldn't "complete" the story of who he was and where he was performing next. We still laugh about that one.
There are more stories to come from years of hanging around the church!
Saturday, September 6, 2008
THE MARBLE MACHINE
Back during the summer one of my grandsons was here for a visit, and he and I were fooling around in the workshop. We had some marbles that we wanted to roll down a roughly made trough, and we started rolling marbles. From that first little project has developed our neighborhood famous "Marble Machine". We first named it the Rube Goldberg Marble Machine, but since no one understood who Rube Goldberg was or is, we simplified the name.
The picture shows a work in progress; we continue to add tracks and all sorts of mechanisms. It has "taken over" one of my work benches, and I don't see any future opportunity of tearing it down and moving it. It has literally enveloped the work bench. Now all of the grandchildren have become involved in either building on it or playing with it. We now have steel marbles moving in all directions, making all sort of noise, and creating a great clamor.
I must admit that I've become deeply involved in something that is totally useless. I guess you can say it is totally useless until you see the gleam in the eyes of the grandchildren. Even the adults in the family and in the neighborhood stand and look at it with amazement in their eyes. Everyone says "wow" to the monster. Even my brother has become involved in design and construction of some of the elements. And, by the way, it's basically made of scraps and junk.
I don't think we're going to eliminate any of the world's video games because of this project, but for just a little while it has brought a lot of joy and pleasure to Sam, Zach, Kaylyn, Samantha, Cotter, Mitchell, and Kelsi. Lynlee and Nolan are off at college, but I believe even they would have a great time with "The Marble Machine."
You can see it at: www.youtube.com/v/PaxM47eJofc
MY MOTHER IN LAW
We were talking with friends just last week when RL reminded them that her mother had died just about a year ago. As with most things in life, their reply was, "Where has this time gone?" It's hard to realize that Grandmother had left us a year ago. Life had been moving so fast that we really failed to realize the passing of time.Grandmother was a sweet dear lady who lived to the wonderful age of 94. Grandad had died several years before, and she had lived alone in a assisted living center. She didn't really like it, but she understand the necessities of life. By the way, I visit a lot of assisted living homes and nursing homes, and I've yet to meet anyone who is thrilled to be there. I want to remind you and I want to remind myself that God's plan includes old ages. He created life; he created every phase of life; he understands old age. I don't, but he does.
So on this September 12, 2008, exactly one year after her passing, I want to say how much I love and appreciate the life of Ruth Barker. She was a loving, caring mother in law who supported me over many years of marriage.
I miss her, but I understand she was and is a part of God's plan.
Friday, September 5, 2008
MY BROTHER GENE
My brother was born in 1932 in the hills of northern Arkansas, and I had a another brother still born and buried in Arkansas in 1934. It took another 5 years for my parents to decide to have another child, and I'm glad they did. I was born in 1939. So there was seven years of difference in the age of the two boys in our family.My brother and I were not very close as boys because of that age difference. We really didn't fight and argue much, but I did pick up a 5 pointed ice pick and threw it at hime when I was about 7 years of age. It hit him right in the middle of the back and left 5 little holes. We never did tell our parents about that episode, and we decided not to fight again the future.
He was in the US Army in Korea when I was coming of age, and I still have a letter he mailed to me encouraging me to be nice as I dated girls. It was a good word to me from my older brother, and it meant much to me during my dating years.
After living great distances from each other for many years, we not live just two blocks from each other. We're enjoying our retirement years together, and we enjoy being with and supporting each other. We do a lot of wood working projects as a team. He and his wife are Godly people who are faithful members of one of the local churches.
Gene . . . . I love you.
Thanks for being a great brother to me.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
ROUGHHOUSING BROTHERS
My older brother and I never did really “roughhouse” together; he was seven years older than me, and he really didn’t want to be around me very much. I did throw an ice pick at him one time when I was about seven years old, and that stopped whatever roughhousing we might have done. So I’ve always been fascinated in a family with lots of boys.
One great example was the Craig family in Baytown, Texas. Some of their boys were already grown when I arrived on the scene, but it was fun to get to know them. Their parents, Curtis and Corrine, were sweet Christian folks; Curtis ran a used car lot for many years in Baytown. The fun thing was that every child in the family had a name that began with the letter R. The one girl was Robin followed by Robert, Rickey, Rodney, Randy, Reggie, and Rusty. You’ve already probably figured out that they were probably a pretty tough bunch; I imagine they did a lot of roughhousing over the years.
I remember playing racquetball with Randy and Reggie one day; they were on the same team in a doubles match. You must realize that doubles in racquetball can be very dangerous because there is a great chance that someone on the court will be hit on the backside with the ball. It happens accidentally most of the time, that is, unless you’re one of the Craig brothers. I will never forget when Randy hit Reggie, rather intentionally. Reggie was a tough guy; he was a football receiver for the Arkansas Razorbacks and later the Kansas City Chiefs. When tears came to his eyes, he wanted to attack Randy, but they just laughed and went on trying to hit each other. It didn’t take me long to excuse myself from the game; Reggie already had a large whelp on his back, and I didn’t want one.
I remember the time when Rusty, the youngest of the family, took a fast swim through some of the drainage pipes and into a nearby creek. Several children were playing, and Rusty just disappeared with all the children screaming and crying. It wasn’t long until he was found about a block away hanging onto a tree limb on a creek bank. He said that he had been practicing earlier that week on how to hold his breath, and when he fell into the drainage pipe, he just held his breath. He was a little bruised and bumped, but he just seemed to enjoy the exciting trip through the water. Everyone else thanked the Lord that Rusty was alive.
That’s what family is all about; it’s learning how to roughhouse together and yet come out on the other end with a smile and joy on our face.
One great example was the Craig family in Baytown, Texas. Some of their boys were already grown when I arrived on the scene, but it was fun to get to know them. Their parents, Curtis and Corrine, were sweet Christian folks; Curtis ran a used car lot for many years in Baytown. The fun thing was that every child in the family had a name that began with the letter R. The one girl was Robin followed by Robert, Rickey, Rodney, Randy, Reggie, and Rusty. You’ve already probably figured out that they were probably a pretty tough bunch; I imagine they did a lot of roughhousing over the years.
I remember playing racquetball with Randy and Reggie one day; they were on the same team in a doubles match. You must realize that doubles in racquetball can be very dangerous because there is a great chance that someone on the court will be hit on the backside with the ball. It happens accidentally most of the time, that is, unless you’re one of the Craig brothers. I will never forget when Randy hit Reggie, rather intentionally. Reggie was a tough guy; he was a football receiver for the Arkansas Razorbacks and later the Kansas City Chiefs. When tears came to his eyes, he wanted to attack Randy, but they just laughed and went on trying to hit each other. It didn’t take me long to excuse myself from the game; Reggie already had a large whelp on his back, and I didn’t want one.
I remember the time when Rusty, the youngest of the family, took a fast swim through some of the drainage pipes and into a nearby creek. Several children were playing, and Rusty just disappeared with all the children screaming and crying. It wasn’t long until he was found about a block away hanging onto a tree limb on a creek bank. He said that he had been practicing earlier that week on how to hold his breath, and when he fell into the drainage pipe, he just held his breath. He was a little bruised and bumped, but he just seemed to enjoy the exciting trip through the water. Everyone else thanked the Lord that Rusty was alive.
That’s what family is all about; it’s learning how to roughhouse together and yet come out on the other end with a smile and joy on our face.
THE TYPING TEACHER
Sandra Jones, one of my teacher friends who taught typing in the past, asked me if the old Royal typewriter was a manual or an electric? Duh? You’ve got to remember that this was in the early 1950s, and I don’t think there was any such thing as an electric typewriter in those days. You had to put some energy into every typing stroke in those days. You developed good finger muscles in the process.
My mother kept that typewriter for many years after I was gone from home. It finally broke down and was un-repairable, and I bought her one of those new fangled electric ones. That was back in about 1980, and I don’t believe she ever learned how to use it.
I realize that children can now “type” now from the beginning. It’s just something that comes in their DNA. They are either are at a keyboard or a cell phone keypad or some other new device that I’ve not heard about . . . from birth. That’s good. I’m sure that the future, for now, is still somehow tied to our finger muscles.
What about voice recognition. I’m sure it’s coming . . . soon!
My mother kept that typewriter for many years after I was gone from home. It finally broke down and was un-repairable, and I bought her one of those new fangled electric ones. That was back in about 1980, and I don’t believe she ever learned how to use it.
I realize that children can now “type” now from the beginning. It’s just something that comes in their DNA. They are either are at a keyboard or a cell phone keypad or some other new device that I’ve not heard about . . . from birth. That’s good. I’m sure that the future, for now, is still somehow tied to our finger muscles.
What about voice recognition. I’m sure it’s coming . . . soon!
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
THE YOUNG WRITER
My son in law has lots of old Cotter pictures posted on Flickr . . and he suggested I use this one. As I look at the picture, I think I need to change my story . . I was only about 12 when I bought the typewriter.
Wow.
50 YEARS OF BLOGGING
The world of communication is amazing. I remember in my early life typing letters on a small portable typewriter to my fiance, my parents, and to others. I'm sure it took a large amount of time, but it kept us well in touch. I made the terrible mistake of throwing out many of those love letters and correspondence from years past; I remember thinking I didn't want my children to see them. Talk about dumb and dumber! I wish they could see them now to understand how much I loved my dear wife at that time. It hasn't changed, but it proably had a little more verbal passion in those days.
I bought that Royal portable typewriter when I was 14 years of age. My dad went with me to the bank and I borrowed $120 from Boley Pearson at Merchants and Farmers State Bank. I don't know why I wanted a typewriter at that time, but I just guess I wanted to start "blogging."
So, here I am, celebrating 50 years of being in the ministry and finding new things to do and say. I've stayed away from blogging, but there's just some things I want to say and do. I figure this is a good way to say and do them.
This is my first attempt. I'll keep on trying.
Sam
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