WARNING: YOUR HEART MAY SKIP A BEAT !

I'm a reader.  Always have been.  Sometimes I'll get on the computer and just read for hours.  Sometimes I'll read four or five newspapers in a day.   I just love to read.  When I was in my early 20s,  I would read the dictionary and find a new "word of the day."  I would make myself use that new word at least 3 times in a sentence that day.  I wish I had kept doing that.  I'm sure I would be a lot smarter if I had.  Every time I set down at the table to eat I must have something to read while I have my meal.  This use to bother Peggy but I guess she decided this was just one of the quirkie things I do and finally accepted it.  When I would read at the table, if I didn't have a newspaper or a book I was in the middle of, I would read things like the cereal box or any other package that was on the table at the time.  Have you ever taken the time to read boxes or for that matter any packages that are in your house?  If I was a young man just starting college,  I think I would major in writing instructions and warning labels on packages.   You wouldn't have to be real smart to do this, just have a little common sense.  I was reading the label of  Liquid plumber for instance.  Warning: Do not reuse this bottle to store beverages.   Or Arm and Hammer Scoopable Cat Litter. Safe to use around cats.   Who ever came up with these has to have a masters degree at least.  Now here's some useful information on the label of Dial Soap.  Use like regular soap.  No way would you have figured that out on your own.  I was looking at a box of Christmas lights we bought this past year.  In big letters it said .....are you ready for this.....WARNING:
FOR INDOOR OR OUTDOOR USE ONLY.  ??????   Where did they think I was going to use these lights?
And yesterday we celebrated my youngest grandson's first birthday.  As I was about to light the candles on his cake I noticed this warning on the matches.  Caution:  Contents may catch fire.   Well slap my face and call me Sally!!!!!!!
As I was thinking about these instructions and warning I thought..."What if they did give instructions and warning with babies?  Would this booklet that came with the kid only tell us things like when the diaper needed changing and how to securely affix a new one to insure that you don't end up with (for the  lack of a better word) mess all over yourself when the baby needs to be changed next time.  Would it tell you about how to rock the child and let you know that the kid couldn't care less that you can't carry a tune when you sing....Just sing.  Would this important booklet warn you about losing your breath each time the kid hugged and kissed you.  Would it assure you that it's OK that you shed a tear on that first day of school.  Would it instruct you on how to handle your anxiety  that first time they got behind the wheel of the family car, or left on that first date.  Or would you be told of the pride you would have on graduation day.
This instruction booklet could be filled with page after page after page of cautions and  instructions and of warning you how many times your heart would skip a beat at all the little things your child would do ..........but.................I think it best that we experience and learn all these things on our own.  It's more fun not knowing what to look for next and learning how to handle those lumps in our throat each time we fight back those tears of joy and pride.
But you know,  I think I'll spend a fun day next Saturday  at WalMart just walking around and reading labels.  It's fun and free.
Just noticed on this can of Sainsbury peanuts I'm eating it says
WARNING:  CONTAINS  NUTS.  Who would of thunk it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Snakes and snails

Snakes and snails and puppy dog tails,  that's what little boys are made of.
I have so much to be thankful for in my life I could list things forever.  Don't we all?
The first thing most of us list when counting our blessing is family and I'm no different.  But I'm not talking just me and Peggy and our children and grandchildren.  I'm talking my children's aunts and uncles and cousins and great aunts and great uncles and second cousins and nieces and nephews and  on and on.  We have been blessed to have vacations and family retreats for long weekends together,  not just the typical family Christmas party.   I have brother-in-laws that have married into the family that aren't in-laws but are actually brothers and nephews that aren't in-laws but that I feel are actually blood.  And as much as this is a blessing to me,  I believe it is more of a blessing to the kids.  When I was growing up I had great aunts and second cousins and I knew them and saw them on occasion but we didn't have what I would really call a "relationship."
To give you an example  a couple of years ago we were all vacationing together in WaterColor Fl.  When I say all, I mean all.  I think there was 32 of us.  It was a time we all remember with a smile on our faces.  One of my fondest memories was of Trevor, my fifth born grandson, and Bruce, my nieces husband chasing and catching a lizard.
Trevor still talks about this and it will probably always be a great time and memory for him.  Of course I think it was one of Bruce's favorite times also as he told us later about doing this as a kid and how scared his mother was of the lizard.  Trevor is probably the most critter and insect friendly grandson we have.  He has never been scared of anything with 4 or more legs or that slithers across the ground.  On a couple of occasions when we have seen a snake in the yard as the others have run away Trevor has run to.  Trevor is also unique in that he loves to play with the other kids but seems just as happy playing all by himself.  When I look at my grandchildren I see something in each that I wish I could instill in myself.  Jay is my 6th born grandchild and as much of a boy as any but there is something different.  While the others have a sensitive side,  Jay's sensitivity seems to be magnified.  He can be as ruff and tumble as any of the boys and yet play forever it seems with Hunter (my 7th grandchild) with a gentleness that truly amazes me.  And love?????  I don't think I have ever seen someone love anyone like Jay loves his mama.  If I could bottle and sell that love none of us would ever have to work again.  Of course we all know there is not enough money to buy that love.  It's priceless.  That brings me to Hunter.  We had a party for Hunter yesterday celebrating Hunter's 1st birthday. How will his personality develop?  I can hardly wait to see,  although you can see some of it now.  He appears to love music and dancing..He loves to be around the other children.  He appears at times to be a very deep thinker as you will often see what we call the Daniell stare as he looks into the thin air while contemplating something.  And I believe he will be very smart because he wants to know everything going on around him.

The right name was picked by whoever decided to call our children's kids our GRAND children, because grand they are.

To all my Grandchildren,  just know you are loved!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THE GREATEST GENERATION

"I’m not concerned with your liking or disliking me. All I ask is that you respect me as a human being. – Jackie Robinson"

As I was thinking about something to write about today,  I got to thinking about things my generation had done to make this a better world.  Oh there were things to write about for sure.  Race equality,  technological advancement just to name a couple.  As I have already mentioned in an earlier post, when I was young,  blacks had separate  restrooms, separate drinking fountains, separate schools and separate lunch counters.  We lived in separate neighborhoods and went to separate churches.  That last statement brings to mind a time  when I suggested to the church I was attending that we should reach out to the black people that were moving into our neighborhood to join with us in worship.   I was quickly told we couldn't do that because "black people worshiped different than us."  Now when I look around I see churches having all different kinds of worship services.  Some even have one type service early, (some call it spirit filled) and then a traditional service at the 11:00 hour.  Who are these churches serving?  The people or God?  Don't get me wrong....I'm not putting the church down...I love churches.  I just think maybe sometimes they need to look at themselves and worry about that beam and eye verse in the Bible.  And then the technology.  I remember the first hand held calculator I saw cost close to a $100 .00.  Now you can buy them for less than a dollar.  The advancements we've made in our generations time kind of  makes you proud doesn't it?  But as I was thinking I started to compare my generation to my fathers.  And the more I compared, and the more I thought, the more I realized that we've lost something.  I think we've lost something called pride in a job well done and a thing we call respect for our fellow man.
My dad was a bread man.  He ran a bread route.  Was this his job?  Not at all....This was his career.  He worked hard 6 days a week.  He made a good living for his family.  He was employed by Colonial Bakery and yes,  "HE WAS A COMPANY MAN. " No, he wasn't union, if fact he was against unions.  But he loved Colonial Bakery and you could see it in his work.  Every time we went into a store, no matter if it was on the other side of Atlanta or on vacation in Daytona  Beach, the first thing he did was go to the bread rack and make sure the Colonial Bread was pulled to the front and straight.  I once asked why he did this.  He said because he knew some other Colonial Bread man was straightening bread in one of his stores.  It was a pride thing with him.  It's what you do, so you do it right.  The second thing that we've lost some of is respect for others.  As you know if you've read my post, Leon was one of my best friends growing up and Leon was black.  Leon's dad was named Miles Howard.  Mr. Howard, and dad insisted I call him Mr. Howard, would do odd jobs around the neighborhood.  Dad once hired him to tear our old driveway out and install a new driveway.  He didn't have jack hammers or tractors to remove the old concrete.  Just had a pick and sledge hammer. Even as a young boy I could tell this was work I wanted no part of.  But Mr. Howard worked at it everyday until he was finished.  And a darn good job he did too.  After Mr Howard finished the job did my dad and Mr Howard become great friends?  Did they go out to dinner together?  Of course not.  As I've said before it was a different time.  They weren't fast friends, they were raised different.  I guess you could say My dad and Mr. Howard didn't worship the same way.  But they did have something in common.  They respected one another. They both worked hard and they both loved their families. 
They called my dads generation "the greatest generation."  Is this the right name for them?  You must decide if this name fits.  No doubt they did great things, but if you take a piece of paper, draw a line down the middle and list their accomplishments on one side of the paper and my generations on the other,  my generations list of accomplishments will far outnumber my fathers.  The big difference is they added their accomplishments to their previous generations with pride and respect.  I'm afraid we might have left these two things out of some of our accomplishments.
To my Grandchildren:  No matter what you chose to do in life,  do it with pride.  If you do it, do it right.  And respect that fellow man.   No matter what his career is, it's important.

I love you!!!

THE PRAYER ANSWERED THROUGH MY MOTHER-IN-LAW!!!!!!!!

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."  Ranking just behind "In the beginning",  this is probably the most famous opening line of any book ever written, and so aptly fits that holiday weekend years ago.  All week the air had been filled with excitement and anticipation.  It would be a time of water skiing, boat riding and sitting on the lake shore, telling stories of our youth,  both real and made up.  It would be good food cooked on the grill and playing Rook late into the night.  It was to be another special time spent with family on Lake Gerald in Delta Alabama.  Lake Gerald had become a place of so many good times for us.  It was a double wide trailer on a 100 acre private lake.   It was a place for family fun and church retreats.  It was deeded to my sister and brother-in-law, but they always made you feel that you were a part owner.  It was that relaxed.  No problems allowed.  No telephones.  Just you, family, friends and Gods creation.  What could be better.  We had spent the previous day doing all the fun things.  This morning we would wake up, go to the top of Cheaha Mountain to the hotel restaurant and have breakfast while looking out the giant window at the beautiful landscape God had provided for us.  When you would cross into Alabama, the welcome sign would say WELCOME TO ALABAMA THE BEAUTIFUL.  I was sure this is where that phrase had been written.  We were just about to start up the mountain when we met my niece Susan going down Hwy 9 in the opposite direction.  We pulled over to wait on her to turn around.  We hadn't expected Susan so this would be an unexpected treat to have breakfast with her also.  But she wasn't there to share in breakfast.  She was there to bring bad news.  A good friend of ours had been killed in an auto accident the night before.  A young man with his whole life ahead of him. A loving young man we had gone to church with and had taught in Sunday School  He was on the football team I had been so fortunate to be chaplain of.  He had spent hour upon hour at our house, his laughter lighting up whichever room he was in.  My heart broke.  All of our hearts broke.  I couldn't understand this!!!!! "WHY GOD?  WHY DID YOU ALLOW THIS TO HAPPEN?"  On the way home hardly a word was spoken.  We were all in shock.  Not only was this young man loved by us but his parents and his older brother were loved by us also.  This was a good family.  A close family.  A family of much faith in God.  We were not only close to the young man but were very close to  his family also.  We had spent a lot of time with them all. All of a sudden on that drive home,  in the quietness of the car it hit me,  that dreaded question we've all asked ourselves in times like this.  What do I say to the parents?  What do I say to the brother.  How can I ease their pain.  I prayed for an answer but God was silent.  I begged God for the answer I knew I would need in a very short time.
But.....God was silent....
We had been told that all the friends and church family were at the parents home so we knew we had to go there.  Cindy and Vicki were very young at the time so we decided it best not to take them with us so we went by Peggy's parents house to see if the girls could stay with them for a while.  As always Peggy's mama said of course.  As we were telling Emily (Peggy's mama) what had happened, it suddenly came to me that she had a little girl get electrocuted and die.  Kathy,  Emily's daughter that had been killed was 3 or 4 at the time.  There never was much talk about this accident so I never asked many questions but I knew that after 20 some odd years,  the pain of this death was still very strong.  There were a couple of pictures sitting around and Emily had a few toys that were kathy's that none of the kids were allowed to play with.  But at this time I needed information.  I needed guidance.  I needed someone to tell me what to say to these parents.  So I took a deep breath and asked....." Emily,  What can I say to help ease the pain the parents are going through."  Although at the time I didn't realize it,  God was about to answer my prayer.  Emily said " number one:  Talk to them about their son. Tell them about times you spent with him.  About things they may not know about. Almost everyone  at that house will change the subject when the boys name is mentioned.  Why?  Because they are afraid of saying the wrong thing.  The parents want to hear things of their son.  Be bold in sharing your experiences with the son. Number 2:  Don't say "your loss or reference you lost your son."  You lose your car keys...you don't lose a child...When you lose something you have no idea where that something is..They know where their son is...He's with God and they  will be with him again. and never speak in past terms as "they had a son"  ....They still have a son....he's just in heaven now....Number 3:  Don't dare tell them time heals, or over time the hurt will fade..It doesn't  Not one tiny bit does the pain ease.

My prayer was answered through words by my mother-in-law.  Since this time we had another couple that we were very close to have a daughter die.  They would call us some nights at midnight and ask if we would go with them to their boat to fish and talk.  We would always go and one night the dad said to me..." I want to thank you for coming with us.  We've asked other friends but you and Peggy are the only ones that will talk to us about our daughter, and we need that so much.

At an aunt's funeral not long ago the preacher, I believe in his prayer asked...."God,,,Why is dying so hard?"   To my Grandchildren I say  " Dying is only hard for us that are left living,  but it is a part of living   And one day we will be reunited with those we love.

Thank you  God for answered prayers......

YOU CAN LOOK IT UP!!!!!!!

"Sugar and spice and everything nice,  that's what little girls are made of!!!"  I thought about opening this saying up for debate but decided it probably wasn't a good idea.  I have a very special spot in my heart for little girls.  When I was 12 our family was blessed with a new addition.  A cute, very curly headed little girl.  My big sister and I thought this little girl was a toy and to this day I am amazed she made it through childhood without severe mental problems.   To give you an example, at the age of 2,  she actually thought she could kiss her own ear and would make some awful faces trying to accomplish this.  I probably should apologize to Terri for pranks like this.....but I won't. Next my big sister got married to this great big fellow named Julian Price who tried to lead me astray on more than one occasion, but I in no way will go into specifics at this time.  Dianne, who we call Dicy, and Julian had two wonderful baby girls.  The first is named Susan,  who we call Little Mother Teresa, and the second was Jill the pill, who because of some things she has gone through in life I call a miracle of God.  I am so proud of the things she has accomplished and where she is in her life.  Then of course, our first two children were beautiful girls, Cindy and Vicki, that have brought such joy to our life.  When I try to express my love for them and the happiness and pride they have given both their mama and me,  the words always seem so inadequate.  So you see why I have a special place for girls.  As I've stated before we have seven grandchildren, five boys and two girls.  Our two girls are Bethany and Chasity, and just as I mentioned with Austin and Zack,  the personalities are completely different. Bethany is very tender hearted and wants to make sure she doesn't hurt any one's feelings,  but if you push her she does has a temper and will show it.  Chasity on the other hand....whew.......If you don't want her opinion on something or someone you better not ask and most times you will get her opinion if you ask or not.  Bethany is what I would call the girly girl of the family and Chasity the independent one.  When Vicki was expecting Jay,  Chasity let everyone know they didn't need another kid in the family,  much less a boy.  She would much rather have a puppy.  Of course when Jay was born,  she changed her mind and loved him very much, although at times they still have their sister-brother times.  As I watch the girls grow, I see so much of their mother in them, and in the next minute I see none of their mother but two individual young ladies with so much to offer the world.

In this and the last posting about Austin and Zack, I have tried more to introduce my Grandchildren to the people that don't know them than to tell stories.  The stories will come I promise.  I also want the grandchildren to know how I see them at this time in their life. I'm sure my perception of them will change over time just as my love for them will grow over time even though I don't know how it can.  I still have a hard time understanding how you think you can't love anymore but God keeps increasing the love you have to give.

I still have three handsome young men to introduce you to.  Trevor, Jay and Hunter.  You will meet them in the next couple of days and that will complete our immediate family as it stands right now.  I will probably skip a day from  introducing the grand kids as I have felt the urge to share another story with you, but they will be introduced very soon I promise.

Tomorrow I want to share a life lesson with my grand children I learned from my Mother-in-law.  She taught me this to me better than anyone else could.

Until then...I LOVE YOU !!!!!!!!

THAT'S WHY WE HAVE HAMBURGERS AND HOT DOGS!

Children's questions and statements.  Seems they always bring a smile to our face.  Zack, my second born grandson, it seems is the one that can wear you down with questions.  He was usually the quite one when he was younger.  He would be playing or riding in the back seat not saying a word and all of a sudden he would have a question about something, and then another, and another and another and they seemed to come forever.   And funny statements....They come out of nowhere with Zack.   Austin, my first born grandson,  and Zack decided to build a few birdhouses a couple of years ago and make themselves a little money.   I thought it would be a good chance to spend some real quality time with them plus I could teach them to use some tools and about shop safety.  Austin is the artistic one in the family.  He could always draw even at a very young age.  And when we would build I would give the boys freedom to do their own thing but at the same time would show them basics, thinking they could build common birdhouses faster and therefore sell more.  Zack would usually build the simpler birdhouses but Austin always wanted to design and build something different.  And design he did.  He came up with some houses I never would have thought of (or anyone else for that matter).  Austin was a perfectionist and always wanted every cut and every dimension to be perfect.  I would tell him often to think outside of the box.  He was designing and it didn't always have to be perfect.  Kind of like us, God made us different and not perfect, but by no means did God not get it right.  Zack on the other hand would build his one or two houses that day and then go inside to play with the other kids or watch TV or whatever.  Austin would continue to work on a special design after I was ready to go inside and would talk about taking over the birdhouse business one day.   Zack would get bored after a while and be ready to go on to something else.   One day I asked Zack  "Are you tired of building birdhouses?"   His very quick response was  "It's OK,  but I'm just doing it until my singing career takes off."  A very quick sense of humor Zack has.  He has to be the comedian in the family.  He makes these Jim Carry type faces that just crack you up and the really funny part of it is I'm not sure he knows does it.  Austin has moved on from building birdhouses to playing the guitar and singing and I'm so proud of him.  He is self taught and has really stuck to it.  Zack on the other hand doesn't build anymore but still goes to all the shows he can with us, but is very busy with Scouts.  I'm proud of him also.  It amazes me how God gives each of us a different personality, just as the birdhouses have different personalities.  The boys would build a birdhouse and say no way will anyone buy this.  My standard response would be "Sure they will...someone will love it..we all like different things...THAT'S WHY WE HAVE HAMBURGERS AND HOT DOGS!"

Next I will write about my two grand daughters Bethany and Chasity.  It will be about

"Thank you for the baby brother God but what I asked for was a puppy. I never asked for anything before. YOU CAN LOOK IT UP!"

AN OPEN LETTER TO MY GRANDCHILDREN!!!!!!

Instead of writing about my grand kids today, I've decided to write to them about a life lesson and to also make a confession to them.  First the confession:  I really wasn't a ninja warrior.  I know this will really disappoint some of you but telling the truth cleans the soul.   Now for life lesson #1.

   " Ability may get you to the top, but it takes character to keep you there." You all are blessed with talents and abilities, some of which you have yet to realize  Abilities are God given talents that must be developed and nourished but they "are "God given.  Work hard to develop these.  The second part of this is character.  This is something you must build yourself but know that family is there to help you with this.  One time,  your  Grandmother and I were walking down on the old Daniell farm years ago.  At that time my Uncle Billy was the owner of this land and he, like your great grand daddy, loved this land.  Uncle Billy it seemed was always working down there, usually by himself  but it was a peaceful place for him to meditate and as I said he loved it.   We sat down on some old logs to talk with him and I was looking out over the pasture,  I noticed an old scrub of tree that had ropes wrapped around it and was tied to stakes that were driven into the ground to hold the tree up.  I mean to tell you this was a sad looking tree,  out in the middle of the pasture all by itself.  I asked Billy why he didn't just cut that tree down as it couldn't be of any use.  He went on to tell me the story of the tree.  How the winds and the rains and the storms had pushed the tree almost to the ground.  About how he had almost cut it down but for some reason hadn't.  He went on with the story, and it was about a young boy in the neighborhood that had gotten into some trouble.  Billy said he was a good kid at heart but had just made some mistakes.  The boys parents asked Billy if he would have a talk with the boy as they were at the end of their wits and didn't know what to do.  Billy told them to have the boy come down to the farm the next Saturday at around 8:00 o'clock A.M.  The next Saturday the boy was there right on time and Billy told him he needed some help with the old scrub tree.  Billy said they worked about 4 or 5 hours straightening that tree up and running the ropes around the stakes to hold it up straight.  When they were finally through,  The young boy asked the same questions I had asked earlier....Why?...What good was that tree?  It was the only tree out in the pasture.
Billy explained to the young man that the tree was like we are as young people.  Sometimes when we are growing we don't feel very pretty or handsome.  sometimes we feel useless.  Sometimes we feel like we are in the world all alone.  At those times we need help.  At those times we need someone to pull us up straight and hold us there just as the ropes were doing to the tree.  And as we grow stronger and bigger we can stand on our own more easily.  We can withstand the winds and storms better. 
I think what Billy was teaching the young man about was character.  Billy was telling the young man that as he grew older he would see how God would use him in life.  How he would bring comfort and refuge to others just as that tree would bring shade and comfort to the cows in that pasture.  He was telling the young man that he and his parents were there to help make him strong.  I hope you all know your Granny and I,  your aunts,  uncles and cousins.  and most importantly, your parents are there to help you whenever and with whatever you need.
I pray as you grow,  good character through God's grace will grow with you.

I love you all.

PaPa

THE HIDDEN TREASURE

It was a spring day.  Josh was just a baby and Cindy and Vicki were at school.  They were in middle school at the time.  I use to think I would love to be a teacher.   Elementary or high school.  Middle school?   NO WAY!!!!!!  I could handle one or two kids of middle school age but to have a class room full,,,, if you're were not already crazy you soon would  be.  I once  suggested they make prisoners teach middle schoolers but was quickly reminded we have laws against cruel and unusual punishment in our country.  Of course I loved mine at all ages.  They were different than yours. LOL!!  Anyways,  on this spring day Peggy and I had decided to go through some  boxes  that had been pack up for years.  I pulled a box down from the stack and opened it.  When I first saw it contained a bunch of little toys that went to other toys that had long ago been lost, broken or discarded to the trash,  my thoughts were to just put the whole box in the  pile to be taken to the dump.  But I have a bit of "hoarder" in me.  I refuse to watch that program on TV about Hoarders  because I've lived all the episodes.  Where was I?  Oh yeah,  I had  taken this box down, opened it and thought I'll quickly go though and see what is in here.  Hid in the bottom of that box was an old portable reel to reel tape recorder.  It had a tape in it but no batteries.  Once again i decided to just put everything back in the box to toss out.  But just then something said to me, "get some batteries".  I'm sure you've heard that silent voice  in your ear.  The voice no one else hears.  But I knew I had to find some batteries to install into the recorder.  After about 15 minutes of rummaging though some of my hoarded things I came upon 4 AA batteries. I quickly installed them into the recorder and hit the play button.  What I heard was the most wonderful sound. It was the sound of my two little girls at the age of probably 4 and 5.  They were playing church.  Not school,,,,,not mama and daddy,,,,not telling stories, but church.  Cindy was the preacher and boy was she letting it roll, and Vicki was the congregation and she couldn't amen enough. But the sermon text,,,The sermon text was the thing that really caught your attention.Get ready for this....it was  "DON'T PEE PEE IN YOU PANTIES IN CHURCH".   Peggy and I couldn't stop laughing.  Art Linkletter had it right with his "Kids say the darnedest things".  Cindy and Vicki were the first grand children on Peggy's side of the family and her dad thought the sun rose and set on these two girls, and they thought the same about their PaPa.  It was not unusual to hear a knock on the door early on a Saturday morning and it would be PaPa coming to get the girls to  take them to the farmers market to get  what seemed at the time to be a truck load of fruit.  Peggy's dad was named Doy.  He had bought a small motor home to take a trip to Alaska and decided to go to the north Georgia mountains to try it out on a short camping trip first, so he and Granny (Emily) wanted to take the girls with them.  At that time inflation had hit the tooth fairy to the tune of about a dollar a tooth.  As soon as they picked the girls up to go camping Cindy had to let them know she had a loose tooth as children are prone to do.  A couple of days later when they returned they had a wonderful story to tell.  Seems Cindy had pulled her tooth and was told to put it under her pillow in the camper and the tooth fairy would come and leave her some money which she did with much excitement.  As soon as the girls were asleep Granny put a dollar under Cindy's pillow and retrieved the tooth to bring home to us.  That task being  taken care of  Granny and PaPa decided they would also go to bed.  The next morning Granny and PaPa were awakened by the screaming and laughter of the girls.  They were on all 4s crawling around gathering change from the floor of the motor home.  Seems when PaPa was getting ready for bed, in taking his pants off he had dropped all of his change on the floor.  The girls in anticipation of the tooth fairy coming thought the tooth fairy had left all this change in addition to the dollar.   PaPa always had a pocket full of change as if he bought anything during the day he would pay for it with a dollar bill and save his change for the piggy bank.  He said it must have been close to 6 or 7 dollars on the floor.  What I wouldn't give to have seen this.  Granny and PaPa lived on South Gordon Road in Austell in a house they had bought after Doy came home from WWII.  They paid $1300 for the house and the payments were $12 a month.  Doy would often tell me of lying awake at night wondering how in the world he would be able to make those big house payments.  About a quarter of a mile up the road lived Peggy's Granny and she owned a couple of acres of land.  Doy, just like my dad,  loved to garden and always had a pretty big garden behind his mothers house.  Cindy never liked to go to the garden as planting or gathering the vegetables involved getting dirt on your hands.  She never has like dirt on her,.  Vicki on the other always loved to go.  Dirt never bothered her plus it was a chance to spend time with PaPa.  One day we went to  Peggy's parents to eat dinner but Doy was up at the garden.  Vicki wanted to go help PaPa so I walked with her up the road until we could see him on the tractor and he saw us and motioned for her to come there.  I left her and walked back down to their house so I could go ahead and eat.  About an hour later we were sitting on the porch and here comes Doy walking down the road by himself.  Emily yelled at Doy and asked him where Vicki was.  He said she's coming and pointed up the road.  I walked out in the front yard so I could see up the road and here comes this 7 year old little girl driving the tractor down South Gordon Rd.  It scared all of us nearly to death but Doy said she was fine.  We came to find out he had been letting her drive the tractor with him for a month or so.  Vicki always thought there was nothing she couldn't do by or for herself, and she's still this way.  She was the most hardheaded kid I ever saw.  I once sent her to her room for doing something I thought was wrong and told her she could come out when she realized and admitted her wrongdoing.  She saw nothing wrong in what she had done and  never to this day has admitted she was wrong.  Maybe I should send her back to her room now that I remember this.
When Josh was born we had a dog named snowball.  Snowball was a ball of white fuzz and had the  energy of a puppy all his life.  As I've mentioned before mine and Peggy's dads loved gardening and at the age of 4,  even though very young Josh had always been around gardening.  He had seen his grandfathers plow, plant the seeds and add fertilizer and water.  He had seen the plants grow from the ground and even helped gather the tomatoes and pick beans.  Josh was a very deep thinker even at a young age.  He had heard people say many time he looked just like me.  One day while riding down the road I could tell he was deep in thought.  after a while he looked up at me and asked....."daddy,  do I look like you?' 
I answered   "Pretty much like me,  Why?
Josh said  " I was just wondering if I was going to be bald headed when I grow up"
As I look back my son was vain at the age of 5.
Now back to the Snowball story.  When Josh was 4 Snowball died.  I can't believe it but I can't remember what happened to him.  What I do remember is burying him and dreading the thought of telling Josh that Snowball was dead.  After working up the courage to tell Josh,  I took him out in the back yard and let him see where Snowball was buried.  He stood there and just looked at the grave for a few minutes.  All at once he looked up at me and asked..."How long will it take for him to come up?"
I said.."I don't understand what you're asking me Josh"
He said .."You know daddy,  When PaPa and Jack Jack (that's what the kids called my dad) plant their gardens,  the seeds grow back.  How long before Snowball grows back?
Oh how I wish I had started a journal the first day Cindy was born and had written everyday the story of all my children.  It saddens me to think of all the things they said and did that are forgotten and lost forever.
There will be more stories about Cindy, Vicki and Josh to come as well as memories of Austin, Zack, Trevor, Bethany, Chasity, Jay, and Hunter.

Mathew 18:  1-3 says
At that time the disciples came to Jesus, saying, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” And calling to him a child, he put him in the midst of them and said, “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.

God thank you for my riches!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THE GLUE THAT HOLDS US TOGETHER!!!!!!

When I was thinking about getting married, even though I had walked away from a close relationship with God at that time as many of us are prone to do at about that age,  I still prayed that  "He would deliver to me  a woman that would make a good mother to my children."  He, as always, went a step beyond and instead delivered a "mama" to my children.  The family,  just like most Churches are headed by the men but are successful because of the women.  Us men know who to give the really hard and important jobs to if we want them done right, so don't think we aren't smart.  God  gave to me "Peggy Gail  Turner.  A few years back Peggy and I both took and later taught  a bible class called "Master Life".   One of the first question you're asked in the class is  "what is your name and are you happy with it?"  Of all the answers I've heard to this question Peggy's has always been the best.  Her answer was that her grand mother wanted her to be named after her (first name) and her other grand mother (middle name).  If this had happened, Peggy would have been named Effie Hessie.  Bless her heart.   And because of our marrage, bless her heart again.  She probably had no idea what was in store for her.  How we hooked up I have no idea.  Here was this tiny (93 pound), quiet (at the time she hardly said a word although that has changed) , pretty ( changed here too, she has now become beautiful) young girl.  I emphasize young because at the time my brother-in-law, Julian, thought I was getting married to a 13 or 14 year old girl..She was of legal age but when we would go to a movie or the fair they would try to sell me a child's ticket for her.  She had always obeyed her parents,  had never smoked a cigarette (or anything else) or had wine touch here lips.  On the other hand without getting into specifics, let's just say I was the opposite.   Getting on with the story,  I know  God put us together because of some of the times we've been through and the very different people we are.  Without God we would have never made it this far.  I told you in the previous blog that  I was going to write about my kids and grand kids in the next few blogs and that is what I will do.  But in order to understand why I have the best children in the world ( who by the way are the parents to the best grand children in the world)  you first must understand how they became so great and you must understand why our family is so close.  The reason is the woman, the lady, the wife, and yes the  "mama" that has loved us and held us together. 

We have three Children.  Two daughters, Cindy and Vicki, born less than a year apart and a son named Josh that came along 12 years later.  People have often asked if Josh was an accident coming along 12 years later.  I immediately tell them no no no.  No children are accidents.  they are all gifts of God, entrusted to us so we will always have sunshine and laughter in our homes.  Tomorrow I will tell you about the tooth fairy,  driving the tractor and planting snowball.  But you will have to come back to read these stories.  ( I think you call that a tease).  Right  now it's 9:30 and I must go build a birdhouse.  May God be with you and bless your day.  Love ya!!!!!!!

The Cost Of A Child.

God has truly blessed me and Peggy with THREE WONDERFUL CHILDREN and SEVEN FANTASTIC GRAND CHILDREN. Over the next few blogs I hope to share some of the great times and sometimes funny experiences we've had with these gifts from God. But before I tell you about our kids, I want to share something I read today.  It made me smile and once again realize how rich I am.

The Price of Children

 This is just too good not to pass on to all. Something absolutely positive for a change. I have repeatedly seen the breakdown of the cost of raising a child, but this is the first time I have seen the rewards listed this way. It's nice, The government recently calculated the cost of raising a child from birth to 18 and came up with $160,140 for a middle income family. Talk about sticker shock! That doesn't even touch college tuition. But $160,140 isn't so bad if you break it down. It translates into:

· $8,896.66 a year,·  $741.3 month, or * $171.08 a  week.· That's a mere $24.24 a day!· Just over a dollar an hour.

Still, you might think the best financial advice is don't have children if you want to be "rich." Actually, it is just the opposite.

What do you get for your $160,140?

• Naming rights. First, middle, and last!
• Glimpses of God every day.
• Giggles under the covers every night.
• More love than your heart can hold.
• Butterfly kisses and Velcro hugs.
• Endless wonder over rocks, ants, clouds, and warm cookies.
• A hand to hold, usually covered with jelly or chocolate.
• A partner for blowing bubbles, flying kites
• Someone to laugh yourself silly with, no matter what the boss said or how your stocks performed that day.

For $160,140, you never have to grow up. You get to:

• finger-paint,
• carve pumpkins,
• play hide-and-seek,
• catch lightning bugs, and
• never stop believing in Santa Claus. You have an excuse to:
• keep reading the Adventures of Piglet and Pooh,
• watching Saturday morning cartoons,
• going to Disney movies, and
• wishing on stars.
• You get to frame rainbows, hearts, and flowers under refrigerator magnets and collect spray painted noodle wreaths for Christmas, hand prints set in clay for Mother's Day, and cards with backward letters for Father's Day.

 For $160,140, there is no greater bang for your buck. You get to be a hero just for:

• retrieving a Frisbee off the garage roof,
• taking the training wheels off a bike,
• removing a splinter,
• filling a wading pool,
• coaxing a wad of gum out of bangs, and coaching a baseball team that never wins but always gets treated to ice cream regardless.

 You get a front row seat to history to witness the:

· first step,· first word,· first bra,· first date, and· first time behind the wheel.

You get to be immortal. You get another branch added to your family tree, and if you're lucky, a long list of limbs in your obituary called grandchildren and great grandchildren. You get an education in psychology, nursing, criminal justice, communications, and human sexuality that no college can match.

In the eyes of a child, you rank right up there under God. You have all the power to heal a boo-boo, scare away the monsters under the bed, patch a broken heart, police a slumber party, ground them forever, and love them without limits.

So . . one day they will like you, love without counting the cost. That is quite a deal for the price!!!!!!!

Love & enjoy your children & grandchildren!!!!!!!

I hope you enjoyed reading that as much as I did.  My cup runs over.  I am healthy,  happy and a very rich man.  Until next time.......PRAISE GOD FOR WHAT HE HAS DONE!!!!!!!!!   LOVE YOU

You Can Go Home Again!

As many of you know, I build custom birdhouses.  This started as a hobby a long time ago and a few years back I decided to start doing festivals and art shows.   It embarrasses me when people walk into my display and ask if I'm the artist as I've never considered what I do as art.  My standard response now is that "I'm the craftsman,  if I was an artist my birdhouses would cost much more".  The festival life is some of the most fun I've ever had.  I've met so many interesting people and each show has it's very own personality.  I now have birdhouses hanging all over the world and even a couple in the yard of a U.S. Congressman.  You can see my work online at my website WWW. myfowlintentions.com.  OK,  enough of the advertising and back to the story.  The first year I started doing festivals, I was looking for shows to do in the Atlanta area and came across a show in Kirkwood at Bessie Branham Park.  It was only a one day show, ( most of the shows I do are two or three days) was very inexpensive, and was what many would consider a very small show.  I immediately told my wife, Peggy, I was signing up.  Her response was "do you think you can sell anything there?" To which I  answered  " It doesn't matter,  I'm going home".  Bessie Branham park is one block south of what is now The Kirkwood Lofts. Although now apartments,  this is where i first went to school.  Kirkwood Grammar School as we called it back then.  There were so many first for me at this place.  Years ago when I read "Everything I need to know in life I learned in kindergarten"  I just knew the author was talking about Kirkwood.  Strange I can't remember all of my teachers names but there are a few that are still  etched  deep in my memory  Ms. Milligan,  Ms. Estes, Ms. Ernhart and Ms. Overstreet to name a few  Our Principal was a lady named Ms. Nash who I am sure was a very nice lady but at the time I was sure she was related to the Devil himself.  Ms. Alday was a neighbor of ours and also served as a substitute teacher and I always hated when she was our teacher because if I didn't have my homework, did bad on a test or misbehaved, she would always tell Mom.  The Aldays had two daughters close to my sisters age and a son, Pete,  that was a couple of years older than me.  We all became close friends and as I got older I really grew to love the Aldays.  Some memories of   Ms. Alday was  that she without a doubt made the very best Peanut Butter Cookies in the world.  Another is vacation time.  Back in those days we didn't have air conditioning in our cars so when we went on vacations,  we would leave very early in the morning to try and beat as much heat a we could.  Whenever we went on vacation Ms. Alday would get up very early and cook breakfast for us and when the Aldays went on vacation Mom would get up very early and cook breakfast for them..If memory serves me Ms Alday always had pancakes, sausage and eggs.  Of couse I would have rather had peanut butter cookies.  Getting back to the festival at Kirkwood.  The festival is called "The Kirkwood Spring Fling".  It is held each year in May and without a doubt is my favorite.  That first year I saw people I had not seen in 50 years and each year it seems more of the old timers come  back.  I have also met people that lived a few blocks away or were a year or  two older or younger and have now become friends with them.  As  I said the festival is held at Bessie Branham Park.  When I was a kid I thought the city of Atlanta must really love me because they had built me my very own park.  This was my park and it had my very own Recreation Center.  The hours I spent there probably saved me from getting into really bad trouble.  There was always games to play and old adults ( people probably as old as 19 or 20 ) to make sure we behaved and to organize activities. This is also where I first played organized sports.  We had Grey-y (sp) football which was sponsored by the YMCA.  My first coach was a guy named Gil Glover.  I later went to Murphy High School for a couple of years with his younger sister.  Her name was Vickie and she was very pretty.  That's probably why I remembered his name.  He called us the Kirkwood Headhunters and I don't think we lost a game.  Of course I also think I scored 4 or 5 thouchdowns a game and believe if Bobby Dodd would have put me on his Ga. Tech team I would have been an All American.  We moved away from Kirkwood in what is now known as the "White Flight Era" and after a while Kirkwood became a very bad area to live in.  I remember one year it was called the most dangerous area of Atlanta to live in.  But after a while because of the price you could buy these 1920 bungelows for or just because the people got tired of living in this fear,  Kirkwood started to change back to the paradise I grew up in.  I do shows all over Atlanta but to me this is the neighborhood that I would chose to live in if I was moving back to town.  The communitee involvement is just unsurpassed.  These neighbors are really "neighbors".  Don't get me wrong,  they still have their problems but don't we all.  And the big  thing I have dicovered is after almost 50 years...."You can go home again."

Regrets? I've had a few

Do I have regrets?   You bet I do.  I could probably write and list them for the next week or two but will just talk about a few.  I've already mentioned Leon in a previous post and I'm sure I will write about him again but today I regret not staying in touch with him.  Oh I've tried to find him but no luck so far......maybe one day.  I regret not going back and thanking the teachers I had.  I hope they know or knew how much pleasure I have received from the things they taught me.  Can you imagine not being able to read a book to your child or grand child?  I regret judging others...I don't do this as much as I use to but it is so easy to judge someone when we really have no idea what that person is going through or what they went through to get to where they are.  So often we condemn someones lifestyle only because we don't understand it.  Most of us can quote John 3: 16 from memory and this verse is so important because it tells us how to receive salvation, but do you know the next verse by heart?  John 3: 17.  Look it up...It tells us Christ came to save the world, not to condemn it.  If Christ didn't come to condemn,  what makes me think I have the right to condemn?   As a young man I had my best friend come by to see me three times one day.  He came by my store every morning for a cup of coffee but never three times.  It was a very busy day so I didn't take the time to call and see if he needed anything.  I thought, I'll talk to him tomorrow.  Tomorrow never came for him.  He took his life that night.  Could I have helped him?  Probably not but I'll never know.   I regret not calling him.  I  know at times I have not set the best example for my children and grand kids and I regret that.  I have aunts and uncles that have gone to be with the Lord and I regret not making more of an effort to visit  and tell them I loved them.   I regret not telling mom and dad how much I appreciate all they did for me when I was growing up.  I know  I really gave them trouble at times but they were always there for me.  I learned the meaning of unconditional love from them.   I regret so many times taking living in this great country for granted.  I certainly don't agree with the politics of President Obama,  but I am extremely glad I live in a country where a black man can be elected president.  Call me crazy but it shows we have made progress in my lifetime and for this, I'm proud.  I regret not telling God I love Him more often, for not thanking Him more for sending His Son to erase my sins and make me worthy because I sure couldn't become worthy on my own.  I have more I could write about but I think my time right now might be better spent having a little talk with Jesus.  Hmmmmm ,,,sounds like a good name for a song.
And to whoever reads this....Know "I love you!!!!!!!"

The Chicken Plant

My Dad was born in 1918 in Mableton Ga.  He was the youngest son in a family of 8 children, 4 boys and 4 girls.  History has always interested me and especially family history.  I've been told that my great grandfather moved his family to Mableton in around 1878 and was the 5th family to settle in Mableton.  My grandfather at the time was 5 and he told me they moved by horse and wagon from Marietta and it took them 3 days.  Don't guess they had rapid transit back then.  My grandfather was a blacksmith and was once written up in the Atlanta Journal for being the oldest practicing blacksmith in Georgia.  When I was younger,  as I've mentioned before we lived in Kirkwood, so I didn't get to spend as much time with him as I now wish I had.  The Daniell family is well known in Mableton   and anytime you would talk to the old timers there, they would tell you how good of a man my grandfather was.  The family lived in the town of Mableton in a house my grandfather built for my grandmother when they got married, but during the depression, he bought a farm outside of town.  The family moved down to the farm and planted most of the land.  My grandfather would walk to the blacksmith shop and work everyday while the boys did most of the farming.   Dad said they would work from sun up until sun down everyday farming and then granddaddy would give all they grew away.  He said at the time he didn't understand the depression so he thought his dad was the dumbest businessman in the world.  He didn't realize people were hungry.  I say all this because I believe this was where my Dad developed his love of gardening.  Seems I can always remember him having a vegetable garden and there was always flowers blooming in the yard.  One day after I had married I was over at his house helping him do something in the yard and we sat down in the swing to take a drink of water.  I noticed a bush he had planted a while back and how it had grown and asked him what it was called.  He said he didn't know the real name,  he just called it the chicken bush.  We both laughed and I asked why it was called a chicken bush?  He told me a story about when he was a small boy  he had gotten some little Binnie roosters from somebody.  He said they kept digging up my grandmother's flowers and would do their business all over the yard and every time anyone went out in the yard they would step in it and track it everywhere.  He said grandmother hated those roosters.  A man came by wanting to sell her some plants one day but she didn't have the money to buy anything but told him she would trade the roosters for anything he wanted to get shed of.  He said he would give her a speckled bush for the roosters and they made a deal.  Dad said they never knew the real name of the plant but just called it the chicken bush.  He had gone down and got a cutting of the chicken bush at the old home place, rooted it and that was it.  I asked if he would root me one and of course he did.  I have had a chicken bush rooted from the original bush at every house I've ever had and guess I always will.  It always makes me smile when I trim my chicken bush because it brings to mind some of the good times I had with Dad.   By the way,  the chicken bush is an Aucuba shrub.

From the mouth of a child

The year was 1956.  It was a different time than today, much different.  The place was Atlanta in a neighborhood called Kirkwood.  Kirkwood was where I did most of my growing up.  I lived on Leland Terrace which was a paradise for a kid.  On our 1 block long street there were 18 or 20 kids within a year or two of my age to play with.  Our days were spent playing baseball, football or cowboys and Indians in the alleys which ran behind our houses.  When night time came it was hide and seek or just sitting on the curb under the street light talking about God knows what.  At the end of the street was a very big house that the Sissions lived in.  If memory serves me, the Sissions were old maid sisters and to our way of thinking were very rich.  Behind their house is what made our street different.  There stood a shack of a house that we were told was an old slave house. It had no indoor plumbing and an old outhouse out back.  In this shack lived the Howard family.  They were a black family and were the only blacks within miles of us and the only black family I knew that lived in a white neighborhood.  That's right.  In 1956 we had white neighborhoods and black neighborhoods. In fact we had white drinking fountains and black drinking fountains, separate white and black restrooms and black and white schools.  There were even different places for blacks and whites to sit on the buses.  The Howards had a son my age named Leon.  As I think back, integration would have probably come a lot sooner if they had let children handle race relations.  Leon was my friend....Even at that young age i didn't understand why Leon was bussed to school.  It would be another 7 years before I would attend what was one of the first schools in Georgia to integrate but that's another story.  This one is about Leon.  Leon and I would play together every day.  We would often eat lunch together either at my house or his.  We would play baseball, army, have races (he could always out run me) or wrestle (I would always win  because I was stronger).  If we walked over to the Rec Center at the park, he couldn't go inside so we would play outside but if a white kid wanted his swing he would have to give it up.  I often heard others call Leon a n____r but never really thought about it.  It was just part of the everyday language.  In fact I'm sure I called him this but as was often said years ago "It's OK,  he was brought up talking that way".  As friends will, especially when they are kids,  Leon and I often got into fights.  One day in 1956,  Leon and I were wrestling and in turned into a sure-enough fist fight. We were really going at it and all of a sudden Leon stepped back and yelled at me "you're nothing but a big black n_____r".  I was shocked.  Here was this little black kid, my friend calling me a big black n____r.  I couldn't believe my ears and let him know in no uncertain terms that he was the n____r not me.  Ten minutes later as kids will do we were playing again, all friendly and having fun.  The day ended but that night I tossed and turned and couldn't sleep thinking about him calling me a n____g.  I decided that the next day I would find out if he understood he and not I was the n____r.  First thing the next morning I walked to that shack behind the Sission sisters house and asked him,  "why did you call me a n____r   yesterday?"  Leon sat there for at least a minute, his head turned toward the ground.  Finally he looked up at me and said "I'm so sorry,  I was mad at you and could think of no worse name to call you."
Think about it.  That was the worse thing he could call me.  I had heard that term used by my white friends, by men and women I loved and respected.  By preachers, government leaders and policemen.....Used as easily as calling a dog spot.  That day I  made a promise to myself not to use that term anymore.  Even today 50 + years later when I hear that word, a chill goes up my spine.  Oh yes...the lessons we can learn " from the mouth of a child."