THE "F" WORD

If memory serves me it was a warm day at the end of August.  One of those feel good days that fills your whole body with contentment and excitement.  Our young family was together,  myself, Peggy my wonderful wife and our two beautiful daughters, Cindy and Vicki.  We had just picked the girls up from school and were excited to hear about their day.  Vicki was in kindergarten so everything about school was new to her and Cindy was growing up and forging ahead toward her higher education.  Cindy was in first grade.  As we rode down the road, Peggy and I were all smiles in anticipation of the stories we were about to hear.  The stories about how the girls liked their new teachers and about how nice and pretty they were.  The stories about the new friends they had made and the fun things they had done.  We also wanted to hear about what they had learned......or did we?

As Cindy was telling us about her day at school she told us that one of the boys had said the worse word you could ever say.  "What did he say?" I asked.  Cindy then said,  "Oh it was awful,  no way could she tell us what the word was."  Peggy then asked her what letter the word started with.  Her quick reply was,  "It starts with an "F" and has four letters.  I was a young man at the time but could feel my blood pressure going up.  I was becoming angry.  We had to get to the bottom of this.  Who would teach a child to use this type of language.  These were first graders.  Peggy then told Cindy..."It's OK  just tell me the word the boy said."  Again Cindy refused saying it was an awful word.  Finally Peggy told Cindy..."Just lean over here and whisper the word in my ear, or better yet,  Just spell it for me.  No one will hear it but me."  Cindy slowly leaned over close to Peggy.  She got her lips as close to Peggy's ear as possible to ensure that no one else could possibly hear her.  As she spelled this horrible word out in a whisper that only her mother could hear.....as she spelled this awful four letter word that started with the letter  "F"...... A smile began to wash over her mothers face which soon turned into laughter.  What was this awful word I now asked Peggy,  spell it out for me to which she slowly spelled  "F...A...N...Y.......So on this day in school my oldest daughter had learned the word "fanny",  but she had yet to learn to spell it correctly.

We have told this story often and it always brings a smile to my face.  It is one of those stories that I will always keep in my memory bank.  But as I was thinking about this story today,  I got to thinking about how we learn things.  When did you learn your first "cuss" word?  Was it from a classmate or a family member?  We're you offended by it?  I honestly don't remember the first cuss word I learned.  I'm sure I was young.  I do remember a couple times in my early life when I heard someone say a cuss word and it had an effect on me.  One was at a basketball game Murphy High was playing in.  I really looked up to that team.  They were like heroes to me.  It was half time and as they came off the court I heard one of the players say a cuss word.  I could tell he was angry and I can remember asking myself.."Is anger reason enough to use bad language?"  The other time I can remember is I was helping my Dad on his bread route.  I must have been 7 or 8.  Dad had made a mistake and he was upset with himself, and again in anger out came a cuss word.  It is the only time in my life I can remember my Dad cussing.  I'm sure he had cussed before and I'm sure he cussed again but I never heard him.  As I look back on this time I'm glad I heard him cuss.  It made me realize he wasn't perfect after all.  It made me realize we all make mistakes in life,  even our dads, but we must put those mistakes behind us and keep on going forward.

Sometimes I worry about the stories I tell my grandchildren.  About my growing up and the things I did.  They probably don't understand that times were different then.   Maybe I shouldn't tell then about hitchhiking to Florida at an early age or riding down Stone Mountain on a bicycle back when it was just a big rock in the middle of the woods.  Or about walking downtown on the railroad tracks or hunting for rats in Underground Atlanta before it was Underground Atlanta.  Stories about segregation and integration, about ax handles and fire hoses. Stories of times spent in the pool halls and of skipping school.  I worry if these stories will give them ideas of things they could do and I wonder if some of these stories might embarrass them.  Then I began to wonder if maybe they are at a time in their life when they don't want to share everything that is happening in their life with me.  Could they be afraid of giving me ideas of things to try.  Is it possible they are afraid they may embarrass me if I knew all about their life.  After all.... "WE DO LIVE IN A DIFFERENT TIME."  

Which reminds me..."Did I ever tell you about the time.........................."

BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU ARE DOING OR SAYING,  THE WORLD HAS EYES AND EARS !!!!!!


I had an aunt pass away this past Friday.  She was 98 years old and lived a good life.  Her name was Ruby Cardell and she and her husband,  Ed Cardell were the owners of Floyd Road Shopette for years.  If you grew up in Mableton,  at some time in your life you most likely met Aunt Ruby.  She was a very humble lady with a loving personality and a beautiful smile.  May she rest in peace in the arms of her savior.

As I was thinking about Aunt Ruby this weekend,  my mind naturally flowed to others that have died recently.  It seems each week we are going to a visitation, funeral or memorial service for a friend or  family member that has died.  Why is it that there seem to be more and more deaths of people close to me I asked myself the other day?  I'm sure it's because I'm getting older and am getting close to that time when I will be called home myself.  I'm sure some of you are saying to yourselves about now "This sounds like a gruesome post,  I don't know if I want to keep reading this or not."  Or you may say  "This doesn't sound like a post from Wesley,  he's usually upbeat."   Let me ask you to please continue reading.  There yet maybe something that will inspire you.

When writing most of my post, a subject or a person will come to mind,  I sit down at the computer and just start typing.  What you get is the first thing that pops into this old soft bald head that is attached to this body of mine.  But this post has developed over the past week and the inspiration came from someone who is probably going to be shocked when she sees her name.  If you happened to read my last post, you will remember it was about my Aunt Frances and her having her 100th birthday.  If you haven't read it I hope you will.  It was about the things I remember about Aunt Frances and the influence she has had on my life.  I posted it on facebook as I usually do and was again amazed at the responses I got.  I still have a hard time believing people will read something I write,  much less enjoy the things that come out of my mind or my memories of my life years ago.   Maybe that's a subject for another post but for now I must finish this one.  Anyways, I love getting comments on what I write.  I guess it confirms that what I write is worth reading.  Maybe it's an ego thing.  I'm not sure but I know I enjoy the comments and I mean everyone of them.  But after the last post there was a comment that really hit me hard.  I mean hard like a kick in the stomach hard.  It came from a lady that I went to High School with.  We are friends on Facebook.  In fact we are probably better friends on Facebook than we were in High School.  You see, she was a much nicer person in school than I was and she had the good sense to keep a safe distance from me and my kind.  That being said,  I guess I can still say we were friends back then, and I'm glad I can say we are friends today.  The person I'm talking about is Edna Brown Romano.  What was her comment you ask?  Edna said:

 

"I pray I will live a life that will call to the mind of a niece,nephew or grandchild the warmth of love you have shared so beautifully."

Stop for a minute and think about what Edna said.  She not only said these kind words to me,  she set a goal for herself to live a certain kind of life.  In fact, Edna took it a step farther and prayed to live her life in a certain way.  Edna's comment struck a chord with me.  As many things do lately, Edna's comment got my mind to going.   The first thing I did was type a new status on Facebook.  You may remember  I typed:

                                  I can do that.    Think about it.

You probably thought I was asking you to think about it, while I was actually asking me to think about it.  The more I thought about it, the more I realized I couldn't live that kind of life.  I could type I CAN DO THAT,  and I could say I CAN DO THAT, but by myself, I couldn't do that.  So I went back and read Edna's comment again, and two words jumped out at me.  I PRAY.  There was my answer.  If I pray, I can do that.
Phil. 4-13 says  "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."

When I was younger, just like most young people I thought I was indestructible.  I thought I would live forever.  Then for some reason  we finally realize we are only here for a short time.  It is during these times we discover that if we are going to leave a footprint on this earth,  the best way to be remembered is by how we lived.  How we treated others.  How we loved others.  When I think of the ones that have gone before me,  the ones I remember fondly are the ones that always had nice things to say.  The ones that always had that smile on their faces.  The ones with a giving spirit.  The people with a righteous spirit and those that showed mercy to the downtrodden.  In short,  the ones I have the best memories of are the ones that were the most Christ like.
 And so:

 I pray I will live a life that will call to the mind of a niece,nephew or grandchild the warmth of love You have shared so beautifully with me my Lord.  Let me always be submissive to Your Guiding Light.

Amen and Amen.

ON THIS DAY IN HISTORY:

On this day in history the Congress passed the Bill of Rights, The three crewmen of Skylab II landed in the Pacific Ocean after being on the U.S. space laboratory for 59 days, and My Aunt Frances was born.  Big deal you might say to yourself..."So today is your Aunt's birthday.  We all have birthdays."  Yep,  we all have birthdays, but will you have a 100 of them?  That's right,  today My Aunt Frances is 100 years old.  Happy birthday Aunt Frances.

I'm sure you are familiar with the old saying  "He can't see the forest for the trees."   Well this morning as I was thinking about someone like my Aunt Frances having 100 birthdays, this old saying came to mind. But as I thought, I said to myself,  "Be careful Wes, living to be a hundred years old is quite a feat,  but the big thing,  the thing that really matters is what you did in those hundred years."  So I decided to change the saying to "You can't see the trees for the forest."  You see,  the forest is the one hundred years but My Aunt Frances built that forest one tree at a time.  To know My Aunt Frances,  you have to be able to see the years in small segments.

1912....Taft was President.  It would be 2 years before WWI would start.  Seventeen years before the great depression, and it was the first year of the Girl Scouts. Oh how I wish I had been smart enough to quiz Aunt Frances years ago about her young life.  The stories I could have heard and the things I could have learned.  Aunt Frances is the oldest of eight Hogue children and the last one living. Today she is bed ridden,  her body is broken and almost worn out.  Her mind isn't sharp like it was a few years ago but her spirit is still something to behold.  If you look up "sweet spirit" in the Dictionary,  it wouldn't surprise me to see a picture of My Aunt Frances.

As I wish for unheard stories to be told to me by My Aunt Frances,  the one thing I do have and cherish are the memories I have of her.  I still remember as a young boy visiting at her house,  playing with little cars in the room next to the kitchen as she was cooking dinner for her family.  The thing that is foremost in my memory isn't the food she was preparing or the decor of the house.  It isn't of the toy cars and trucks I played with or the clothes she wore.  The memory is of her voice singing praises to her Savior.  She wasn't just humming a tune or singing a chorus.  She knew all the words to the hymns and would sing all the words.  There was no air conditioning and the windows were open and I know the neighbors heard her sweet voice.  It hasn't been but a short time ago that I once again heard her singing and it still brought a smile to my face and a warmth to my heart.

I love going to yard sales and flea markets.  I like taking old throw away items and decorating my birdhouses with these things.  I can trace my love for scrounging for old things directly back to My Aunt Frances.  We lived in Atlanta when I was young and I can still remember her coming out and picking me up and we would go down on Decatur Street to the pawn shops looking for bargains.  It makes me laugh thinking about her shopping in these stores.  She loved her antiques.

But if you're going to talk about the loves of My Aunt Frances,  you have to start with family.  When the Bible talks about being equally yoked, I'm sure it's talking about Aunt Frances and Uncle Ralph.  When you came to the first curve on Cooper Lake Road,  every house you could see, the people who lived in them were related to Aunt Frances or Uncle Ralph. My Grandfather died when all  the kids were fairly young and from what I can discern,  the family stayed very close in large part because of Aunt Frances and Uncle Ralph.  I can still remember during the last years of my Mom's life,  if there was a problem,  she would say  "Call Aunt Frances." If the Hogue family had a Matriarch, without a doubt it was My Aunt Frances. And you could easily see the importance that was placed on family, in the lives of the children of Aunt Frances.  Even when we lived out in Atlanta it wasn't unusual for Jimmy or Stuart or Nick to show up for a visit.  And Marlene and Dianne seemed as close as sisters sometimes.  Family mattered to Aunt Frances and she taught her children that family matters.

I could go on and on about stories about My Aunt Frances.  Stories about auctions and staying the weekend at her house.  Stories about sleeping in the attic of the garage, riding across the fields in a horse drawn wagon and early morning squirrel hunting trips.  Funny stories about biting my finger nails and getting Polio from it. 

I'm sure during these 100 years there were some hard times and disappointments.  I'm sure there were times when many of us would say "why keep on going."  But not My Aunt Frances.  I'm sure that on this morning she awoke with a smile on her face and a song in her heart. And so today I say to her......

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AUNT FRANCES,  HOPE YOU HAVE A BLESSED DAY AND I AM SO GLAD I CAN CALL YOU:
                                                   MY AUNT FRANCES

I WISH FOR ONE MORE PHONE CALL


The phone call would come in the night.  Most times between 9:30 and 10:30 PM.  It would be my good friend Ed asking if Peggy and I would join him and Ruth on a trip to the lake to go fishing.  You see Beth, the oldest daughter of Ed and Ruth,  had recently gone to be with the Lord.  They were having trouble sleeping and just needed company.  "Of course we'll go Ed,  give us 30 minutes and we'll be there."  Those fishing trips came to my mind yesterday as I learned of the death of Ed Ramsey.  Many people would say we were doing a good deed by spending the night with friends during their time of grief but I say it was us that benefited from these times.  We learned so much about life and ourselves,  about God and His wonderful grace on these trips.  Funny how the mind works.  I can remember the sound of the motor on the back of the pontoon from these nights.  I remember the stars shining so brightly and the cool crisp air in my face.  I remember the fresh smell of God's creation and the laughter of friendship but I can't recall if we ever caught a fish.  Maybe fish isn't what we were going for after all.

As I heard the news of Ed's passing, my mind became a whirlwind of memories of Ed and his family.  I can still hear him telling stories about himself and Jessie Ruth.  Seems he always called her Jessie Ruth.  He would tell stories about when they first came to Georgia from Port St. Joe and stories about when he was a kid growing up in Florida.  Ed always had a story to tell.  He was a master story teller.  I hope his kids and grand kids have recorded some of these stories to pass down.  Speaking of the kids, it always amazed me at how different they were from each other.  Oh, as far as looks go they all seemed to favor one another but their personalities and interest were all so different.  Ed and Ruth were the best I have ever seen at letting their children develop in their own direction and I so admired that in them.  And when I say this, don't think for a minute these Ramsey kids didn't have direction.   They were always directed toward God and they were always loved unconditionally.

I thought of times when Ed was the Pastor at Brookwood Baptist Church.  He would tell me about things that were happening at the church and he was so proud of his members.  Ed was a good preacher and he was a great pastor.  He loved the congregation and was so good at encouraging them and building them up.  I can still hear Ed bragging on a teenager  speaking on youth night or about a lay member giving a talk  at Wednesday night service.  We were blessed to visit Brookwood sometimes and we were always greeted with open hearts and smiles.

Another memory was when Cindy, our oldest daughter, and Randy were planning their wedding,  Cindy insisted that Ed be one of the Pastors of the service.  Ed wasn't the pastor of our church but Cindy considered him to be a pastor to her.  I think this tells alot about the love he had toward people.  I can still see Ed standing there with that barrel chest stuck out.  As I think back I realize God had to give him that big chest to hold that big heart he had.

I could go on and on talking about what this man meant to me and my family.  I could tell of swimming parties and other trips to the lake.  Of Sunday dinners and playing cards all night long.  I could tell what a blessing he was to all that knew him but they already know this.  This Wednesday there will be a funeral for Ed.  There will be songs sung and words said.  There will be prayers prayed and stories told.  But it won't be Ed's funeral.  Ed's funeral has already been told.  It was told in his life everyday by him.

Rest in peace my friend.  I love you and miss you and I know when you reached those gates to heaven God said welcome my good and faithful servant....Welcome home.

THE IHOP MAN


Late yesterday afternoon Peggy and I went to IHOP to eat dinner.  Now I know most people go to IHOP for breakfast but they have a pretty good menu besides the pancakes.  Many time when the Grands come over and spend the night, the next morning I will make them PaPa's world famous pancakes for breakfast.  I often tell them how for years I have been recruited by IHOP to be the head chef of their pancake kitchens but part of the deal requires me to give them my secret recipe which I refuse to give to anyone.  Therefore,  the wonderful treat of PaPa's pancakes is given just to them.

Anyway,  back to the original story.   As we sat there,  an older man walked in by himself,  was seated, and for some reason I couldn't take my eyes off of him.  No,  he didn't look familiar.  I don't believe I had ever seen the man before.  There was really nothing special about the man's appearance.  He was dressed normal,  had two eyes and two arms,  one nose.  Just an ordinary man. But still there was something.  "What was it about this man?"    Then it hit me.  It was something about the curvature of his lips.  The corners were naturally turned down.  And his eyes.  Yes he had two just as you and I, but he had such a blank stare.  A stare as if he looked passed what was in front of him and saw things that were not seen by others.  There was a  sadness about him.  A loneliness.  What an unpleasant feeling it must be to be lonely.  A feeling of emptiness.  I mentioned to Peggy how lonely the man appeared, then the subject was changed and we enjoyed our meal together.

When we got home we did the same as we usually do.  We checked the computer,  watched some TV,  talked awhile,  just the everyday things we do.
Then we went to bed.  But as I was lying there,  the memory of the man at IHOP came back to me and the look on his face would not go away.  Did I see something that was not there?  Had my imagination run amok again.  No matter....Whatever it was I knew I had to pray for this man or sleep would never come.  I didn't know what to ask for,  but I knew God would know what the man needed.  And so I prayed for this stranger.

As I finished and said my amen,  I knew sleep would soon come.  So I waited,,,,  and I waited,,,, and I waited some more.  But sleep wouldn't come.  All that I could think of was this man at IHOP....."WHY GOD?   WHAT IS GOING ON?"    I thought to myself,  I've done as I should.  I've prayed for the man.  "WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT OF ME GOD?"   As I was asking God these questions,  little did I realize I was still praying.  It was as if I could hear God's voice giving me answers.  The reason I was so concerned for the
man was because subconsciously,  I have the same fears.  I don't want to be lonely.  I don't want to feel empty.  All of a sudden Isaiah 41:10 came to me................

"So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous."

 I thought to myself,  "What a small verse and what a big promise."  Think about it for a minute....it says.... "for I am with you"  My God is with me always.  No need to fear,  no need to be dismayed. He will make me strong.  He is my God.

As I laid there my mind went back to the man at IHOP.  I had prayed that he would not be lonely.  That God would give him friends to comfort him.  I now went back to my God in Prayer.  This time I prayed that the IHOP man would know my God through Jesus Christ.  I prayed that my God would show him,  just as He had shown me that He was real and He was present and He was righteous.  I now knew I had asked for what the IHOP man needed and I knew God was able to supply those needs.

I once again closed my eyes.  This time sleep came quickly and I rested in the assurance that my God was in control.

May God Bless You This Day...Amen

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