THE FLOWER


She was a fair maiden.  Not only beautiful but very intelligent.  She lived in the city and was loved and trusted by many.  In this city was located a community garden.  When you had shown yourself to be responsible and trustworthy,  a small plot of the garden would be allocated to you and on your plot you could plant what you wanted.  Some planted vegetables for nourishment of their bodies.  Others planted flowers simply for the beauty they provided.  After years of learning and maturing the fair maiden was finally allowed to have a plot to work.  It was a plot owned by a man and his wife that had much faith in the fair maiden.  To this man and his wife,  this plot was very valuable. In fact it was more valuable to the man and woman than it would be to anyone else.  By allowing the fair maiden to plant their plot, it showed the trust they had in the fair maiden and she in turn took the responsibility of this plot very seriously.

The fair maiden decided she would plant flowers.  She was a gentle lady and loved things of beauty.  She plowed her plot until the soil was soft and smooth.  She then carefully planted the seeds.  One by one,  not to close together in order to give them room to grow.  She fertilized and watered.  In fact she watered daily and made sure no weeds grew in her plot that would crowd and smother her plants as they grew.  And then she waited with much anticipation.  And she waited and waited and waited.  Not a single flower appeared.  Weeds would grow and she would pull them up but no flowers ever broke the ground.

I often wonder what went through the fair maidens mind as she waited.  Was she disappointed?  Did it depress her that she never saw a flower grow?  Did she feel that she had failed?  After years she disappeared.  I know not where she went  but for years the plot that she had taken such an interest in lay barren. Others tried to grow things on this plot and on occasion would get a very small yield of crops but mainly the plot continued to lay barren.

And then, out of no where, a plant began to grow.  It wasn't a large plant but kind of small.  No one had ever planted these seeds on this plot since the fair maiden so it must be from her seeds.  No it wasn't the year after she planted the seeds on this plot.  No it wasn't even ten  or twenty years later but it was over fifty years later.  And then a small flower bud.  And then another. This must be a miracle everyone thought.  This defies nature they said.  Where can we find the fair maiden?  Where should we look?  Is she still alive or has she passed away? She must see this.  She must see the results of her labors. I have no idea where she is but I wish I did.  I wish I could find her.  I wish I could sit and talk to her.  Why do I wish to see her you ask?  What would I share?

It was in the 1950's.  I was far from being a good student at Kirkwood Elementary School.  My teacher's name was Ms. Ernhart.  She was special to me and made me feel I was special to her.  I hated homework.  In fact I hated all school work but even though I hated the work, she made me want to be at school.  Why you ask?  Because she made me feel that I was smart.  I can remember her telling me how good I was at spelling.  I can remember being proud and wanting to be a good speller because of this.

I remember once she gave us an  assignment  to read a book from the library and then do a book report.  She told us we could chose our own book as she wanted us to read something we were interested in.  We were to tell about the book and also about the author.  As for me,  I had no time for this book report stuff.  I had much more important things on my mind like my paper route and playing baseball with the guys.

It was the night before the book report was due.  I had a problem.  I mean I had a big problem.  I had not only not read a book,  I had not checked one out and the library was now closed.  Ohhh boy!!!!!!  How was I going to get past this.  I had really dug myself into a hole this time.  It's probably not what your thinking.  I wasn't worried about making a zero on the grade.  My problem was I didn't want to fail Ms. Ernhart.

As I sit in my room trying to come up with an excuse why I didn't have a book report, the craziest idea came to my mind.  I would make a book up.  I would write a report on a book that didn't exist by an author that didn't exist.  I even made up the copyright date and the publishing company.  Boy I thought,  "I'm Good".

A couple of days later Ms. Ernhart called us each up to her desk,  one at a time,  to give us our book reports back and discuss our grade with us.  I was as nervous as I had ever been.  Then I saw my grade.  I had made an "A".  She then told me that my report was the best story she had ever read.  She said she gave me the "A" because she knew it was much harder to make a story up than to read a book and do a report.  She then said something to me I will never forget.  She said four simple word.  "I'm proud of you".

It was over fifty years before I wrote anything else.  Are my post the best I've ever read?  Not by a long shot, but I've finally found that I enjoy writing.  I enjoy telling a story. And the most important thing...."I'm proud of me"

If you haven't figured it out yet,  in the metaphor I started this post with, Ms Ernhart is the fair maiden,  my parents are the man and his wife,  I am the plot of ground and the flower buds are my writings.  Hopefully after awhile I will improve and the buds will become full blooms. The seeds of course are the words of encouragement given to me by Ms Ernhart. 

I have no idea where Ms. Ernhart is.  I don't know if she is still alive or dead.  But I do know she touched many a child.  She was a wonderful teacher and a beautiful person.
I wish I could sit down with her and thank her in person but I can't.  If there was a Ms. Ernhart in your life and you can still thank her,  I hope you will.

God Bless our Teachers

MEMORIES LIGHT THE CORNERS OF MY MIND,

Misty water color memories of the way we were.

Scattered pictures of the smiles we left behind,

Smiles we gave to one another fore the way we were.

Can it be that it was all so simple then,

Or has time rewritten every line?

And if we had the chance to do it all again,

Tell me, would we? Could we?

Memories may be beautiful, and yet

What's too painful to remember

We simply choose to forget,

So it's the laughter we will remember

Whenever we remember the way we were.

I posted a piece on facebook the other day titled "Things I've Learned."
It was to me a very inspiring piece and got my mind to running. Of course I have a very hyper mind so it doesn't take a lot.  If I was as hyper physically as I am mentally I would weigh 99 pounds.  Not sure if that would be a good thing or bad.  Anyway as my mind was running amok, it quickly went to things that I had learned and things that make and have made me happy.  The more I thought and the more I pondered what has and still does make me happy, the more I realized it was simple things.  Inexpensive things.  In most cases free things.  These things and experiences made me smile.  Some even made me laugh out loud.  Others brought a tear to my eye and some even had me sobbing.  But they were happy tears.  Tears that made my heart feel as though it may burst at any moment.  Memories of childhood,  memories of my teen years,  memories of young adulthood and memories I've built while I was  getting older.  I  of course can't tell all here I hope at least one of the things I've learned through   my memories will turn the key of your memory bank and make you smile.

I've learned that if I can hold a grand child tight against my chest while he sleeps that the child's unconditional love and trust permeates between our bodies and I am a happy man.

As I remembered playing outside as a child, I learned that the smell of an afternoon summer rain refreshed me just as the rain itself, refreshes the earth.

 I remember as I would walk to school at a young age, that when I waved to another child,  that small gesture made the child smile, and when the child waved back at me, it likewise made me smile.

I learned that the best way to make me happy is to make someone else happy.

I learned when my best friend Jeff moved away that a letter or a card sent by snail mail was priceless.  It still is and can't be replaced by an e-mail or a text.

I've learned that even though I can't sing or carry a tune, that when I sing  "Amazing Grace" and contemplate the words a tear still comes to my eyes.

Almost exactly one year ago I learned that sometimes we get a second chance at life.

I've learned that prayer works.  I have many memories to prove this.

I've learned that even at my age,  I can learn things from a child.

Although I would not advise it today,  I have many memories of hitch hiking.  The people I met,  the things I learned and the places I went.

Ohhh the memories of hopping on my Cushman Eagle,  the freedom I now had,  the wind blowing in my face.

 I loved riding downtown Atlanta just at dusk with the top down and the smell of the city in my nostrils.

My first trip to New York City.  I couldn't believe a place so big with so many people.

The memories of the first time I stood at the edge of the ocean,  the waves washing over my feet and the sand around my feet being returned to the sea.  As I gazed out to an endless horizon I think this is the first time I contemplated infinity.

At a young age I learned not to judge people.  At an older age my children and grand children retaught me this valuable lesson.

The best swimming is done in a wide place in the creek.

Thinking back at my memories,  I realize my life is the best.  Thank each of you for making it so.

I've learned I love each of you.

God Bless

WHAT'S IN A NAME


"What's in a name? That which we call a rose
by any other name would smell as sweet."
AWWWW...One of the most famous quotes in literature.  Have you ever wondered what Shakespeare was thinking when he wrote it?  Did he think this quote would start so many brains to start working?  Why do we call certain things what we call them?  Is there really any rhyme or reason behind names of things?  Why do we call a cow a cow?  Why not call a cow a dog?  If a cow was called a dog, wouldn't the milk still taste as sweet?  Of course it would.  Seems we just accept the names given to things in stride and go on with our everyday chores.

But how about the names we give people?  Have you ever thought about all the effort that was given to naming people.  As soon as we find out a new baby is on it's way,  the first thing we do, as far as parents, is think about names.  I wonder how many books there are about baby names?  I googled baby names just out of curiosity. I got 63,700,000 results in .17 seconds.  If you really got into a deep search for a newborns name, the poor kid could would be dead before you came up with the right name.

Notice the last two words of the previous paragraph.  "RIGHT NAME."  Have you ever noticed how sometimes a perspective parent will tell you what their new child's name is gonna be and under your breath you will quickly find yourself saying a prayer for this unborn child.  You very quickly know this child is going to have an awful life with that tag attached to them for the rest of their lives.  I have also noticed that even though the name in no way fits the child,  Like magic,  the child usually grows to fit the name.

When Peggy and I realized we were going to have a son,  one of the first things we knew we had to do was pick a name.  I joked that we, needed a good southern name, and my first choice was "Billy Bob."  Peggy hated it but for seven month before our wonderful son came into this world he was known as "Billy Bob."  Every time I would call him "Billy Bob",  Peggy would let me know in no uncertain terms that we were  not going to name him "Billy Bob."  The day of the birth finally came.  We were in the delivery room.  The birth went great and all of a sudden we were the proud parents of a 10 pound 1 and 1/2 ounce boy.  That's right, a TEN pounds ONE and a Half ounce son.  The Doctor looked at Peggy and upon congratulating us asked her the all important question....What are you going to name him?  At this time we still weren't completely sure what his name would be but Peggy knew it wouldn't be "Billy Bob."  She looked at the  Doctor and said  "We might name him after you......what is your name?"  The Doctor looked at Peggy and his response..................."William Robert"...........or Billy Bob.  Later that day our son was named Joshua Kyle and he grew into his name very soon there after.

Some of us end up with what is called Nicknames.  All of my three children and seven grand children have their own special nicknames.  I don't know if they like these nicknames or not but they are terms of the deepest affection when I call them by these nicknames.  As for myself I have been called by many names in my lifetime,  some of which I like and some that are not printable in this post.  Some of my nicknames have been Wes, JW,  WD, Stonk, and Catfish.  I'm sure you have had nicknames also.

Our names are special to us.  Even though someone else may share our name,  our name is still unique to us.  My first post and the name of this blog is about my last name.  "Daniell."  This name is very special to me and not just because it's spelled with "Two Ls."  It is special because it tells where I came from.  It tells of family before,  the good and the bad.  It tells me of people that came before me that helped form this land,  this country,  this state and some of the different towns and cities.  Of people that worked hard,  had strong beliefs and stood up for these beliefs.

You too should be proud of your name.  You are special.  You are unique.  It is estimated that there have been more than 107,602,707,800 people born on this earth, and out of all these people not a single one is or has been just like you.  Stand up straight.  Stick you chest out.  Hold your chin up.  Your name means something special.  You are special.

Many times we are asked if we could change our names what  our new name be?  For me,  I'm happy with my name.   I'm even happy with my nicknames.  In fact there is one name I'm called that always makes me smile and sometime brings a tear to my eye.  What is that name you ask?  That name is "PaPa."  If you have this same name or one like it,  you know what I'm talking about.

God Bless