IT DEPENDS ON WHAT THE MEANING OF IS IS!!!!
President Bill Clinton Will probably be remembered for his quote "It depends on what the meaning of is is", for years to come. Or maybe this one, "It depends on how you define alone". How we define words can really make a difference in what we hear.
Take the word numbers for instance....What's the first thing that comes to your mind when I say the word numbers? Maybe accountant.... How about math....Or maybe boring...Or course all three of these kind of go together. When I was in school, math was probably my best subject, although that isn't saying much. I mainly took to the saying of Mark Twain... "Never let school get in the way of your education." I was always told to remember my math lessons because I would use it all my life and to a large degree that's been true. Take a moment to think of all the things we use numbers in. Counting our money, "How much is in the bank?" Counting our kids, "How many children do you have?" Telling the day of the month, the 19th,,,, the month of the year, the 10th,,,the year , 2011. Our address. Our Social Security number. We even have a special sign (#) for number on our key board and telephone. Oh wait, there's another one ,,,,our telephone number. We could go on and on. What would we do without numbers?
Peggy and I have had our youngest grandson, Hunter, stay with us the last couple of days. It's always a special treat when one of the grand kids comes to visit but as they get older it seems they have other things to do and we don't see them as often as we would like. Hunter is only 21 months old so he pretty much goes where he is told and Peggy and I have found he is pretty happy as long as we do exactly as he wants us to. It is so much fun to watch him discover things of this world. We walk in the yard and he stops and picks up every stick and looks at it like it's a treasure no one else has ever seen. We went to the park and without a doubt the ducks were his favorite thing although the swings and slides were a close second. As I watch him I see so much of his dad, Josh, in him. He brings back memories of things Josh did and said in his childhood. At certain times I can see Hunter so very deep in thought just like the times I saw this in Josh. That's where the thought of "numbers" came to mind.
Josh was about 5 if memory serves me right. We were riding down the street and Josh was quite. I looked in the rear view mirror and could see he was deep in thought. I knew it wouldn't be long until a question would be coming. Josh had more questions than any kid I had ever seen. And all of a sudden here it came. Josh said " Dad,,,what happens when you use all your numbers up?" I thought for a second and said, "What are you talking about Josh?" He said " You know, when you use all your numbers up."
I had no idea what he was talking about but as the saying goes, Inquiring mind want to know. I tried to explain to him that numbers went on forever. To infinity and beyond. I knew he had heard that before. But he said " No no no. Not that. You know, like I'm 5. What happens when a person has used all his numbers up?"
Now I got it. What happens when our life as we know it ends? What happens when we don't have any birthdays left? This from a 5 year old. Well I tried to explain to him as best I could about life and death. About heaven and hell. But sometimes it's hard to know if a 5 year old totally understands what you're trying to say. It's even hard for me as a 63 year old to totally understand what I'm trying to say sometimes.
We've laughed about this story over the years, but as you get older, I've found that sometimes when I think about a story or a question, sometimes the answer depends on how you define the question. For example, instead of using your numbers up, Let's just think about "How you use your numbers." What if Josh instead had asked "Dad, does it matter how a person uses his numbers up? Or how about this....... "Dad, How are you using your numbers?"
Of course when we are younger and we think about what we are going to do with our numbers, we think in terms of years. As we get older and think about our numbers we tend to think more in terms of weeks or even days.
When I thought about the word numbers I also thought about of the Book Of Numbers. The 4th book of the Bible. Just like math and accounting, I use to think of the Book Of Numbers as boring. then I studied it and found Numbers demonstrated the importance of holiness, faithfulness and trust.
Isn't it amazing the windows of your mind that can be opened by the questions of a child?
Now I must decide....What will I do with this number I've been blessed with today?
Until next time, just know someone is thinking about you!!!!!!Love
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
NOSTALGIA
A couple of weeks ago, my daugater bought me a book. It was a book titled
" The lost writings of Jim Morrison". In case you don't know, Jim Morrison was the lead singer and song writer of the rock group The Doors. He died way to early, which can be said of many of the Rock Stars of the 60s. One of the poems in the book really made my mind start running. To awake my mind I've found, is sometimes good and sometimes can be dangerous. May this short poem, or some of my memories that follow it, awaken something in you.
A man rakes leaves into
heap in his yard, a pile,
& leans on his rake &
burns them utterly.
The fragrance fills the forest,
children pause & heed the
smell, which will become
nostalgia in several years.
Nostalgia........The dictionary says it is the yearning for the past, often in idealized form.
Do you yearn for the past? Of course we all do at times. As I think back I yearn for the way fresh cut grass smelled when I was a child. Or the way a watermelon tasted when my cousin Stuart would take me down in the pasture to the springhouse and he would grab a ripe watermelon out of the spring, bust it on the ground and we would eat the heart out of it. I would love to go back to Bessie Branham Park and play a grey-Y football game and have Mike Wages hand the ball off to me just one more time. Or what I wouldn't give to have just one more foot race with my little black friend Leon, even though I know he would win again. Or how about just one more ride on my shiny Cushman Eagle. Wow, the freedom I felt when I was riding down Boulivard Drive without a worry in the world. Or how about jumping in what was called a back seat of the TR3 that my sister Dianne's boyfriend Julian had and going over to get a ground beef and cheese pizza. I don't remember the name of the drive-in but to this day it's the best pizza I ever had,or maybe it was the company and not the pizza. Oh, and how about going out in the middle of my street, Leland Terrace and playing football with Pete, Tommy, Butch, Lane and all the other guys. I bet I can go back now and still show you which telephone poles were the goal lines. Or the pride I felt when I would take mine and Dianne's new toy, our little sister Terri, out for a walk and hearing the neighbors tell me how pretty she was. As I think back I remember Mom taking Jeff and me down to a creek to catch tad poles and me falling down, getting soaking wet, and mom laughing out loud. I can still hear that laugh. Or the anticipation on Wednesdays, which was dads short day on the bread route, of his getting home and us heading up to Lake Lanier to go fishing. And thinking of fishing, I love the memory of camping on the river with my Uncle CW and working the trot lines. I could go on and on with my memories but I also love the memories of loved ones. Of Peggy talking about picking peaches with her dad or her mom riding a pony they had. Of her granny quilting. I loved listening to Dad talk about when he was a boy down on the farm and Mom telling us stories about her life growing up and the things her dad built for them. And my father-in-law was one of the best story tellers of all time. He could really spin a yarn about his childhood.
Nostalgia.......The yearning for the past......It is fun to think about it but sometimes we must remember we live in the present. It was fun back then but we must remember in years to come our children and grand children will be telling stories about when they were young. Make sure you do your part in making their nostalgia a pleasant experience. Don't worry about spending the dime.....spend the time....MAKE SURE THEY KNOW THEY'RE LOVED....and make some memories.
And now....Do you remember the smell of burning leaves or when..........................
A couple of weeks ago, my daugater bought me a book. It was a book titled
" The lost writings of Jim Morrison". In case you don't know, Jim Morrison was the lead singer and song writer of the rock group The Doors. He died way to early, which can be said of many of the Rock Stars of the 60s. One of the poems in the book really made my mind start running. To awake my mind I've found, is sometimes good and sometimes can be dangerous. May this short poem, or some of my memories that follow it, awaken something in you.
A man rakes leaves into
heap in his yard, a pile,
& leans on his rake &
burns them utterly.
The fragrance fills the forest,
children pause & heed the
smell, which will become
nostalgia in several years.
Nostalgia........The dictionary says it is the yearning for the past, often in idealized form.
Do you yearn for the past? Of course we all do at times. As I think back I yearn for the way fresh cut grass smelled when I was a child. Or the way a watermelon tasted when my cousin Stuart would take me down in the pasture to the springhouse and he would grab a ripe watermelon out of the spring, bust it on the ground and we would eat the heart out of it. I would love to go back to Bessie Branham Park and play a grey-Y football game and have Mike Wages hand the ball off to me just one more time. Or what I wouldn't give to have just one more foot race with my little black friend Leon, even though I know he would win again. Or how about just one more ride on my shiny Cushman Eagle. Wow, the freedom I felt when I was riding down Boulivard Drive without a worry in the world. Or how about jumping in what was called a back seat of the TR3 that my sister Dianne's boyfriend Julian had and going over to get a ground beef and cheese pizza. I don't remember the name of the drive-in but to this day it's the best pizza I ever had,or maybe it was the company and not the pizza. Oh, and how about going out in the middle of my street, Leland Terrace and playing football with Pete, Tommy, Butch, Lane and all the other guys. I bet I can go back now and still show you which telephone poles were the goal lines. Or the pride I felt when I would take mine and Dianne's new toy, our little sister Terri, out for a walk and hearing the neighbors tell me how pretty she was. As I think back I remember Mom taking Jeff and me down to a creek to catch tad poles and me falling down, getting soaking wet, and mom laughing out loud. I can still hear that laugh. Or the anticipation on Wednesdays, which was dads short day on the bread route, of his getting home and us heading up to Lake Lanier to go fishing. And thinking of fishing, I love the memory of camping on the river with my Uncle CW and working the trot lines. I could go on and on with my memories but I also love the memories of loved ones. Of Peggy talking about picking peaches with her dad or her mom riding a pony they had. Of her granny quilting. I loved listening to Dad talk about when he was a boy down on the farm and Mom telling us stories about her life growing up and the things her dad built for them. And my father-in-law was one of the best story tellers of all time. He could really spin a yarn about his childhood.
Nostalgia.......The yearning for the past......It is fun to think about it but sometimes we must remember we live in the present. It was fun back then but we must remember in years to come our children and grand children will be telling stories about when they were young. Make sure you do your part in making their nostalgia a pleasant experience. Don't worry about spending the dime.....spend the time....MAKE SURE THEY KNOW THEY'RE LOVED....and make some memories.
And now....Do you remember the smell of burning leaves or when..........................
Monday, October 24, 2011
SHE WASN'T WHAT SHE SEEMED
The year was 1966. I had graduated from high school and got a job at Lockheed helping build C-141. In 1966 if you could get on at Lockheed you were what we called in the money. I was making more than most of my friends which helped to make me a cool dude. Of course a good paying job helped you be a cool dude but you had to also have other things and I was on my way to having it all. My first purchase was a 1964 off-white Dodge convertible with red interior. Of course I had to put American Mags on my new sled and now I was ready to cruise. I had let my hair grow which was the groovy thing to do back then and when I had the top down and my hair blowing in the wind, that's right I had hair back then, I just knew I was hard to resist. I was having a great time but it seemed as if one thing was missing. I know. I needed my very own pad to crash at. I had met a guy through friends name Bob Klebo that lived in the Georgian Arms Apartment. He had lost his roommate, had only two weeks left on his lease and was looking for a new roommate to move in. We talked it over and decided I was his man. They had just built some new apartments close by and we decided instead of staying at the Georgians Arms we would move into these new apartments named Hickory Lake Apartments. These new apartments were the bomb. We were on the third floor, which was the top, and our balcony overlooked beautiful Hickory Lake. Hickory lake was about an acre pond which the apartment surrounded and the apartment owners had put grills and picnic tables around the lake for our pleasure. As Bob and I would sit on our balcony, feet propped up, drinking a cool one, looking over beautiful Hickory lake, I would often asked myself,.......... "Can things be any better?" As I pondered this question, deep down inside, it still seemed as if "one" thing was missing. I know,,,,,,I needed a cool, beautiful girl to share my great life with. But where would I find someone cool enough for me?
Bob and I decided to have a party and invited a few friends over for steaks on the grill down by beautiful Hickory Lake. Bob was dating a young lady at the time, I can't recall her name but I do remember I liked her. She was a lot of fun to be around. She asked if she could bring a friend with her to the party and of course we said that would be great. I thought to myself, maybe this is the cool girl I need to make my life complete. As we were grilling steaks down by beautiful Hickory Lake, around the corner comes Bob's girlfriend and this goddess of a friend she had. I looked up to the heavens and said in a silent voice....."Thank you God."
We grilled, we ate, we talked, we watched the sunset over beautiful Hickory Lake as soft music filled the air from the record player on our balcony 3 stories up. It was a fun time and I thought to myself, This has to be what was missing from my life. As Bob's girlfriend and the goddess were about to leave, I asked if she would like to go out the next weekend and to my delite she said yes. ALRIGHTTTTTTTTTT I said to myself in that silent voice it seems I used a lot back then. The week dragged by.....It seemed the the next weekend would never come.
But finally. Finally It's Friday night. I want everything to be perfect I decide to wear my navy blue slacks and a yellow Izod shirt..I go and have the Dodge washed and let the top down. I've scrubed, brushed and combed. I've splashed on the English Leather and everything is perfect. Yep that's what I said, Everything is perfect, for the last time that night. On my way to pick the goddess up I have a flat on the Dodge. No big problem. A quick tire change and I'm on my way again. Of course I'm running about 15 minutes late now and I have dirt on my hands and on my face where I wiped away the sweat with my dirty hands, but again I say to myself in that silent voice...."No big deal." But to the goddess it did seem to be a big deal. She couldn't understand why I didn't leave early in case of a problem on the way. Once again in that silent voice I told myself to just ignore her attitude, she was probably excited about the date like I was and things would be better as the night went on. I excused myself to her bathroom and washed my hands and all the English Leather off my face and neck and once again we were on our way.
I had decided on a movie with Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton. The Movie was called "Who's afraid of Virginia Wolf". I loved it!!!!!!Of course the goddess hated it. She said next time she would pick the movie. Believe it or not I was beginning to hear a hint of irritation in my silent voice.
I thought to myself, let's go to the Varsity and get something to eat. Everyone likes the Varsity. We'll cruise through with the top down, park on the upper deck, get a P.C. or a Frosted Orange and a little something to eat, watch the people and finally have some fun. Have some fun? Boy was I wrong but as I look back it was funny.
As we parked the Dodge the curb boy as we called them came out to the Dodge. There was a certain curb boy that I had become friends with named Dave. He always waited on me, gave me great service, we would cut up with each other and of course I Tipped him well. The goddess said she wasn't very hungry so I just ordered us each an order of fries and a P.C. As always Dave was Prompt. I thought surely the goddess will be impressed with the service......NOT....
As Dave hung our tray in the window of the Dodge, I payed him, tipped him well and thanked him for the great service. I then started to hand the goddess her fries and as my night had gone, I dripped some ketchup on my yellow Izod. WELL JUST DARN..................What else could go wrong tonight? By now my silent voice was yelling words that would fry a mushroom. But just then the voice calmed down...In a very subdued gentle tone the voice said...."BE COOL"
So in a controlled manner I calmly placed the goddess' frys back on the tray. Slowly opened my door, stepped outside the Dodge. and cleaned the ketchup off my yellow Izod and brushed off my navy blue slacks. I then slowly climbed back inside, grabbed the armrest on the door and slammed it shut. There must be a physic lesson it what happened next. As the door came to rest in a closed position, the fries and P.C.s didn't. They flew all the way over me and landed directly in the lap of the goddess. I quickly learned the goddess didn't have a silent voice nor did she talk like a lady. She also didn't have a sense of humor.....Needless to say i didn't get a good night kiss and I never saw the goddess again. I also learned that people aren't what they always seem. I also learned a much more valuable lesson. Money, clothes, cars, houses don't make you cool. What makes you cool is whats inside of you. It's who you are, not what you have. Listen to that silent voice....It can teach you alot. The silent voice is a much better judge of people than our eyes.
The year was 1966. I had graduated from high school and got a job at Lockheed helping build C-141. In 1966 if you could get on at Lockheed you were what we called in the money. I was making more than most of my friends which helped to make me a cool dude. Of course a good paying job helped you be a cool dude but you had to also have other things and I was on my way to having it all. My first purchase was a 1964 off-white Dodge convertible with red interior. Of course I had to put American Mags on my new sled and now I was ready to cruise. I had let my hair grow which was the groovy thing to do back then and when I had the top down and my hair blowing in the wind, that's right I had hair back then, I just knew I was hard to resist. I was having a great time but it seemed as if one thing was missing. I know. I needed my very own pad to crash at. I had met a guy through friends name Bob Klebo that lived in the Georgian Arms Apartment. He had lost his roommate, had only two weeks left on his lease and was looking for a new roommate to move in. We talked it over and decided I was his man. They had just built some new apartments close by and we decided instead of staying at the Georgians Arms we would move into these new apartments named Hickory Lake Apartments. These new apartments were the bomb. We were on the third floor, which was the top, and our balcony overlooked beautiful Hickory Lake. Hickory lake was about an acre pond which the apartment surrounded and the apartment owners had put grills and picnic tables around the lake for our pleasure. As Bob and I would sit on our balcony, feet propped up, drinking a cool one, looking over beautiful Hickory lake, I would often asked myself,.......... "Can things be any better?" As I pondered this question, deep down inside, it still seemed as if "one" thing was missing. I know,,,,,,I needed a cool, beautiful girl to share my great life with. But where would I find someone cool enough for me?
Bob and I decided to have a party and invited a few friends over for steaks on the grill down by beautiful Hickory Lake. Bob was dating a young lady at the time, I can't recall her name but I do remember I liked her. She was a lot of fun to be around. She asked if she could bring a friend with her to the party and of course we said that would be great. I thought to myself, maybe this is the cool girl I need to make my life complete. As we were grilling steaks down by beautiful Hickory Lake, around the corner comes Bob's girlfriend and this goddess of a friend she had. I looked up to the heavens and said in a silent voice....."Thank you God."
We grilled, we ate, we talked, we watched the sunset over beautiful Hickory Lake as soft music filled the air from the record player on our balcony 3 stories up. It was a fun time and I thought to myself, This has to be what was missing from my life. As Bob's girlfriend and the goddess were about to leave, I asked if she would like to go out the next weekend and to my delite she said yes. ALRIGHTTTTTTTTTT I said to myself in that silent voice it seems I used a lot back then. The week dragged by.....It seemed the the next weekend would never come.
But finally. Finally It's Friday night. I want everything to be perfect I decide to wear my navy blue slacks and a yellow Izod shirt..I go and have the Dodge washed and let the top down. I've scrubed, brushed and combed. I've splashed on the English Leather and everything is perfect. Yep that's what I said, Everything is perfect, for the last time that night. On my way to pick the goddess up I have a flat on the Dodge. No big problem. A quick tire change and I'm on my way again. Of course I'm running about 15 minutes late now and I have dirt on my hands and on my face where I wiped away the sweat with my dirty hands, but again I say to myself in that silent voice...."No big deal." But to the goddess it did seem to be a big deal. She couldn't understand why I didn't leave early in case of a problem on the way. Once again in that silent voice I told myself to just ignore her attitude, she was probably excited about the date like I was and things would be better as the night went on. I excused myself to her bathroom and washed my hands and all the English Leather off my face and neck and once again we were on our way.
I had decided on a movie with Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton. The Movie was called "Who's afraid of Virginia Wolf". I loved it!!!!!!Of course the goddess hated it. She said next time she would pick the movie. Believe it or not I was beginning to hear a hint of irritation in my silent voice.
I thought to myself, let's go to the Varsity and get something to eat. Everyone likes the Varsity. We'll cruise through with the top down, park on the upper deck, get a P.C. or a Frosted Orange and a little something to eat, watch the people and finally have some fun. Have some fun? Boy was I wrong but as I look back it was funny.
As we parked the Dodge the curb boy as we called them came out to the Dodge. There was a certain curb boy that I had become friends with named Dave. He always waited on me, gave me great service, we would cut up with each other and of course I Tipped him well. The goddess said she wasn't very hungry so I just ordered us each an order of fries and a P.C. As always Dave was Prompt. I thought surely the goddess will be impressed with the service......NOT....
As Dave hung our tray in the window of the Dodge, I payed him, tipped him well and thanked him for the great service. I then started to hand the goddess her fries and as my night had gone, I dripped some ketchup on my yellow Izod. WELL JUST DARN..................What else could go wrong tonight? By now my silent voice was yelling words that would fry a mushroom. But just then the voice calmed down...In a very subdued gentle tone the voice said...."BE COOL"
So in a controlled manner I calmly placed the goddess' frys back on the tray. Slowly opened my door, stepped outside the Dodge. and cleaned the ketchup off my yellow Izod and brushed off my navy blue slacks. I then slowly climbed back inside, grabbed the armrest on the door and slammed it shut. There must be a physic lesson it what happened next. As the door came to rest in a closed position, the fries and P.C.s didn't. They flew all the way over me and landed directly in the lap of the goddess. I quickly learned the goddess didn't have a silent voice nor did she talk like a lady. She also didn't have a sense of humor.....Needless to say i didn't get a good night kiss and I never saw the goddess again. I also learned that people aren't what they always seem. I also learned a much more valuable lesson. Money, clothes, cars, houses don't make you cool. What makes you cool is whats inside of you. It's who you are, not what you have. Listen to that silent voice....It can teach you alot. The silent voice is a much better judge of people than our eyes.
Friday, October 21, 2011
JESUS WEPT
What's in a title? I usually try to title my post as to catch your attention hoping you will read my post. Today I thought of "When I was a child I thought as a child." Then I said to myself maybe " No greater love has a man ." Then I read a column in the Douglas County Sentinel. Although Jesus wept, was no where in the column, I knew this had to be the title.
When I was a child one of my favorite toys were little plastic soldiers. They came in a bag and there were many different men, all army green, and made of a rubbery like plastic that wouldn't break and would last forever it seemed. You could play with them inside the house on rainy days or outside and build forts for them out or twigs and squares of moss cut with a kitchen knife. You could play by yourself or with your best friend. As I've told you in the past my street had many children within a couple of years of my age and sometimes we would play army. Our battle field would be in every back yard and the alleys that ran behind the houses. We had play guns of course, rifles and pistols, and if you got shot you had to count to 100 and you were alive again. It was a fun time and war was thought of as glamorous at that time in my life. Most of our fathers had been in WWII but they never talked a lot about it. Later in my life, when I was in about the eleventh grade, all the talk was about a place called
Viet Nam. It was a far away land that many of our friends were going to. There was a draft going on then and most likely unless you were married with a child or in college that's where you were headed. There was a war going on over there that most of us had no idea what it was about. Even to this day I don't totally understand what we were fighting for. Our only guarantee was the we would probably end up in one branch of the service. I was able to get into the Navy Air Corp and lucky that I never ended up in Viet Nam. The service back then was much different than today in that probably 80% to 90% of us didn't want to be in. Today's army is all volunteer. Therefore, I believe a much better army. As I said, I never had to go to Viet Nam but many of my friends did. Many of my friends on face book were there. Many of my friends never came back and some that came back were never the same. In fact maybe none that came back were ever the same. One of my close friends, Ken Blair, was killed over there and hardly a day passes that I don't think of Ken. I saw Ken the day before he was leaving in the parking lot of South Cobb Pharmacy. We talked a little about him going and about getting together when he came home for a couple of beers. We laughed as young men will do and you could tell Ken was not afraid at all. Of course if you knew Ken, you know he wasn't afraid of anything. I'll never forget when I heard he had been killed. It was like my heart stopped beating. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I think at that moment, for the first time, I realize war wasn't a game. Ken couldn't count to 100, be alive and play anymore. And...........I wept.
Last week U.S. Marine Lance Corporal Scott “Boots” Harper was killed in Afghanistan. He had volunteed to serve in the Marines. He knew he was going to war. Like Ken, I'm sure Scott was not afraid. I didn't know Scott but he lived in Winston Ga, the same town as I. Scott went to Alexander High School, the same school as Josh. Yesterday they brought his body home. People lined the streets to welcome and honor him. Young and old. White and black. Men and women. Democrats and Republicans. They waived flags and they saluted. They bowed their heads and prayed. And ...........................They Wept.
Rest in Peace U.S. Marine Lance Corporal Scott “Boots” Harper .
And may God Bless America.
What's in a title? I usually try to title my post as to catch your attention hoping you will read my post. Today I thought of "When I was a child I thought as a child." Then I said to myself maybe " No greater love has a man ." Then I read a column in the Douglas County Sentinel. Although Jesus wept, was no where in the column, I knew this had to be the title.
When I was a child one of my favorite toys were little plastic soldiers. They came in a bag and there were many different men, all army green, and made of a rubbery like plastic that wouldn't break and would last forever it seemed. You could play with them inside the house on rainy days or outside and build forts for them out or twigs and squares of moss cut with a kitchen knife. You could play by yourself or with your best friend. As I've told you in the past my street had many children within a couple of years of my age and sometimes we would play army. Our battle field would be in every back yard and the alleys that ran behind the houses. We had play guns of course, rifles and pistols, and if you got shot you had to count to 100 and you were alive again. It was a fun time and war was thought of as glamorous at that time in my life. Most of our fathers had been in WWII but they never talked a lot about it. Later in my life, when I was in about the eleventh grade, all the talk was about a place called
Viet Nam. It was a far away land that many of our friends were going to. There was a draft going on then and most likely unless you were married with a child or in college that's where you were headed. There was a war going on over there that most of us had no idea what it was about. Even to this day I don't totally understand what we were fighting for. Our only guarantee was the we would probably end up in one branch of the service. I was able to get into the Navy Air Corp and lucky that I never ended up in Viet Nam. The service back then was much different than today in that probably 80% to 90% of us didn't want to be in. Today's army is all volunteer. Therefore, I believe a much better army. As I said, I never had to go to Viet Nam but many of my friends did. Many of my friends on face book were there. Many of my friends never came back and some that came back were never the same. In fact maybe none that came back were ever the same. One of my close friends, Ken Blair, was killed over there and hardly a day passes that I don't think of Ken. I saw Ken the day before he was leaving in the parking lot of South Cobb Pharmacy. We talked a little about him going and about getting together when he came home for a couple of beers. We laughed as young men will do and you could tell Ken was not afraid at all. Of course if you knew Ken, you know he wasn't afraid of anything. I'll never forget when I heard he had been killed. It was like my heart stopped beating. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I think at that moment, for the first time, I realize war wasn't a game. Ken couldn't count to 100, be alive and play anymore. And...........I wept.
Last week U.S. Marine Lance Corporal Scott “Boots” Harper was killed in Afghanistan. He had volunteed to serve in the Marines. He knew he was going to war. Like Ken, I'm sure Scott was not afraid. I didn't know Scott but he lived in Winston Ga, the same town as I. Scott went to Alexander High School, the same school as Josh. Yesterday they brought his body home. People lined the streets to welcome and honor him. Young and old. White and black. Men and women. Democrats and Republicans. They waived flags and they saluted. They bowed their heads and prayed. And ...........................They Wept.
Rest in Peace U.S. Marine Lance Corporal Scott “Boots” Harper .
And may God Bless America.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
THE INTERVIEW
Here I sit on a rainy morning, the last thing on my mind was writing but the notion just hit me. Have you ever been interviewed? Have you ever interviewed anyone? Or have you ever been in a debate where a score was kept? I watched the debate on T.V. last night. I would have loved to been able to asked a few questions. The only problem with asking politicians questions is they hardly ever answer what is asked. Did you notice last night Rick Perry when he told the moderator "It's your job to ask the questions and my job to answer the ones I want to." At least he was honest in his response. I had a dream one night that I was a White House reporter at a Presidential news conference. As I stood to ask my question, I glanced at my note pad at some of the answers the President had given to questions of other and I respectfully asked......"Are you Mr. President, smarter than a fifth grader?" As luck would have it I awoke before he answered so I never heard his answer, but I'm pretty sure it didn't pertain to my question.
I like politics but sometimes politics makes me tired. Maybe I just don't understand. Why do we pay the president? If he ran for the payday he's one of the dumbest people in the world. If he was running the corner store would he sell his gasoline for a dime a gallon after paying $2.75 a gallon for it? Of course if he did this he would sell out faster and could hop on Air Force One and go play a round of golf more often. Does the president still have a bowling alley in the basement of the White House? Have they change the name of the basement to the Prez Cave in order to keep up with the times?
I wonder what brand of toilet paper they use in the White House? Does the President ever walk around the white house in his underwear? Does He ever cut his own toe nails? And how about when the First Family is sitting around watching American Idol and they want a snack, do they use paper plates? What brand? I think I have a right to know. After all, it's my money they're spending.
Have you ever thought of interviewing yourself? Would you ask you the hard questions? And if you did, would you answer honestly if you knew the whole world would hear the answer? Would you be willing to open your life entirely up, show every blemish, every pimple to the people you really want to love and respect you? That would be hard.
Of course there is a record, an honest record of your every deed and your every thought. It's out there for the only One that matters to see. But the truth is He will never see my Record. I won't have to be interviewed by the only One that really matters. Jesus answered those questions for me.
Love you all!!!!!!!
Here I sit on a rainy morning, the last thing on my mind was writing but the notion just hit me. Have you ever been interviewed? Have you ever interviewed anyone? Or have you ever been in a debate where a score was kept? I watched the debate on T.V. last night. I would have loved to been able to asked a few questions. The only problem with asking politicians questions is they hardly ever answer what is asked. Did you notice last night Rick Perry when he told the moderator "It's your job to ask the questions and my job to answer the ones I want to." At least he was honest in his response. I had a dream one night that I was a White House reporter at a Presidential news conference. As I stood to ask my question, I glanced at my note pad at some of the answers the President had given to questions of other and I respectfully asked......"Are you Mr. President, smarter than a fifth grader?" As luck would have it I awoke before he answered so I never heard his answer, but I'm pretty sure it didn't pertain to my question.
I like politics but sometimes politics makes me tired. Maybe I just don't understand. Why do we pay the president? If he ran for the payday he's one of the dumbest people in the world. If he was running the corner store would he sell his gasoline for a dime a gallon after paying $2.75 a gallon for it? Of course if he did this he would sell out faster and could hop on Air Force One and go play a round of golf more often. Does the president still have a bowling alley in the basement of the White House? Have they change the name of the basement to the Prez Cave in order to keep up with the times?
I wonder what brand of toilet paper they use in the White House? Does the President ever walk around the white house in his underwear? Does He ever cut his own toe nails? And how about when the First Family is sitting around watching American Idol and they want a snack, do they use paper plates? What brand? I think I have a right to know. After all, it's my money they're spending.
Have you ever thought of interviewing yourself? Would you ask you the hard questions? And if you did, would you answer honestly if you knew the whole world would hear the answer? Would you be willing to open your life entirely up, show every blemish, every pimple to the people you really want to love and respect you? That would be hard.
Of course there is a record, an honest record of your every deed and your every thought. It's out there for the only One that matters to see. But the truth is He will never see my Record. I won't have to be interviewed by the only One that really matters. Jesus answered those questions for me.
Love you all!!!!!!!
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Today is October 18, 2011. Yesterday I received a letter in the mail dated November 12, 2010. It stated I had been named Past President of the Procrastinators of America for the year 2009. My wife thinks that title is appropriate for me. She says it amazes her that I don't soil my pants everyday by putting off going to the bathroom. I can't believe I haven't written on my blog since April. I guess I could blame it on my heart surgery but the truth is I haven't felt this good in twenty years, so that excuse won't work. How about "I've been so busy doing art shows and building birdhouse I haven't had time?" I don't think so. You see, we generally make time for things we really want to do. I never put off eating as an example. I guess my only real excuse is that I've procrastinated. There, I've said it. I'm a procrastinator. That's something we don't like to admit about ourselves. We like to think we are organized and do things in a timely manner but in truth we all put off things we need to do. Now me not writing probably didn't hurt anyone but me, but in reality, it may have had an effect on someone else. You may think that's a really self-centered statement but I don't mean it to be. I know I'm not any great writer sent to save mankind, but I have had many of you ask me to please continue to write on my blog.
I've been thinking about writing again for a while but what inspired me was a small quote I read in the paper this morning by Bill Curry, the football coach at Georgia State and formally the coach at Georgia Tech. He was talking about coaches but his statement could be applied to all of us. He said "“Everything we say is potentially life-changing.” Think about that for a minute and expound on it a little. Everything and anything you say is potentially life changing. Now I don't say this to make you think that what I say on this blog is going to change the whole world, but.....I possibly could inspire someone to change some part of their life. What you say to someone at work or school or church or even at the grocery store has the potential to change someones life.
Think about Paul for a minute at the Church at Ephesus.. This was a new church with new believers of what was really at that time a new faith, Christianity. How easy would it have been for these new Christians to get distracted? To get discouarged? To get on the wrong path? Paul knew this so he made a simple statement that was probably life changing. Paul told the people to "edify one another". To encourage, to build up, to hold up, to inspire one another. He let them know that the least of them was as valuable as what we would call the most important. We at times all need this. In fact we at all times need this. So you, that have encouraged me to continue to write, Thank you for edifying me.
Now I have one other person to thank and I have put off for 50 years. A man who I am a friend with on Facebook that probably doesn't even remember me but was kind enough to accept me as a friend a few months back. A man that in the last few months by reading his comments and reading his links I have discovered has not changed but has only grown in character. First I must tell you the story. I was a 13 year old freshman at Murphy High School and he was a senior. I was a B-team linebacker and he was one of the stars on the team that would play for the State Championship. In those days the coaches would let some of us B-teamers dress out with the varsity and in runaway games we may even get in for a play or two. We would practice together everyday which made our B-team a much better team because we were use to playing against much better players at practice. One day at practice, if memory serves me right, I had a very good practice for a B-teamer and had made a couple of good plays against the varsity. When practice was over and we were sitting at the door taking our shoes off before going into the locker room this senior star of the team came up to me, slapped me gently on the head and said " Good practice man, today you made us a better team, keep up the good work and you're going to be a great linebacker." I had not only been edified by this senior, on this day I had become a varsity team mate by him. More important than any of that I had learned what makes a good team is to be a good team player. In life, in work, in family, in church....be a good team mate and a team player.
And so...50 years later, but thankfully not to late.....thank you from the bottom of my heart Roy Jarrett. May God continue to bless you.
Now one less thing to do..........
Remember to love one another!!!!
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