AND YOU CALL THESE LITTLE BLESSINGS?
Yesterday my family met at my niece's house to thank God for the blessings He has bestowed on us. Even though we have done this before, for some reason this time seemed different to me. I had a really good time at Susan's house but after we left, my mind continued to think of the many blessings I receive from God and so often take for granted. I guess you could say I had my very own little Thanksgiving Day in July. I have decided to list some of the things I'm thankful for and in so doing, I hope to come back and read this list later, maybe add to it, and maybe I can even have my own little Thanksgiving Day in another inappropriate month, say like September or January. Anyway, here goes:
First of all, I "really" am thankful for this day. It is a gift of God and it is given to me to use as I wish. I just hope I will do something with it that will please the One that gave it to me. I am thankful for the the green grass that cover the earth. For the way it feels under my bare feet even though I'm not a child any more. I am thankful for the comfort it gives my body as I lay down upon it and stare at the beautiful blue sky. We have had artist that have painted masterpieces for hundreds of years but none that have ever exactly matched the perfect blue that God gave to the sky, and for this beauty I am thankful. I'm even thankful for the clouds that spurred my imagination when I was a child. These strange, ever changing masses of vapors, that even to this day give me pleasure. I thank God for His wisdom to include these in His world. And as I continue to look up, I am thankful for the rainbow, for the colors that I see but mostly for the promise from God that it stands for.......Ohhhhhhh....The Blessed Assurance.
I'm thankful for the gentle rain and the cleansing smell it produces on a spring day. Have you ever thought about being thankful for some of the smells we enjoy everyday? Like the smell of a board as it is pushed through the table saw or the smell of a freshly mowed lawn. Or of the fragrance of the Gardenia bushes when they are in full bloom. And oh yeah,,,,,not to long ago I can remember smelling the freshly turn earth as I was preparing to plant my garden. It was a wonderful odor that brought a smile to my face. For these, I am thankful.
I'm thankful for my family and yes, many time I even take them for granted. I'm thankful for when the phone rings and the caller I.D. says it's one of my children. I don't like to talk on the phone for long periods of time but just the knowing that it is one of "mine" makes my heart flutter. And this may sound silly to some of you but I am so thankful when one of our children or grand children are over and they just naturally go to the pantry or refrigerator to get something to eat or drink without asking. I'm thankful that they consider our home their home. And I'm not thankful when they leave but I am so thankful for the arms I always feel around my neck and the words of "I love you PaPa" I hear as they walk out the door. I'm so thankful to be loved. And I'm thankful for a loving wife that knows the meaning of "family." A wife that I enjoy being with and doing things with. A wife that has a giving nature. It doesn't hurt that she's a good cook too. I'm thankful for my Sisters and brother-in-laws and nieces and nephews -in-laws and great nieces and great nephews. It is so wonderful to have a loving family. I can feel God's hand upon us.
I'm thankful for my friends. I'm thankful when I reconnect with a friend from long ago and discover that he or she is doing well. I'm thankful that life has treated them good. I'm thankful for a firm handshake from a man and the gentleness of a woman. Call me old fashion if you want to. You see, I'm thankful I'm old fashion in some ways. And when a family member or a friend passes away, I'm thankful when I hear they were a believer, a child of God, for you see ,,,, it makes me thankful I will someday reunite with them. Yes once again..." Blessed Assurance."
Oh I could go on and on but I need to go out and check on my new chickens, ( for which I am also thankful for) and I don't want to completely bore you with my thoughts. But as you finish reading this, I ask you to "Thank God for this day" and if you are especially thankful for something, share it with us. I would love to hear your thoughts. Why you ask? Because you see.....I'M THANKFUL FOR YOU !!!!!!
May God continue to bless us all.
Sunday, July 21, 2013
Saturday, July 13, 2013
THE "COOP D' VILLE"
On the television show Pawn Stars, the Old Man sometimes uses the phrase "Some people's children" when talking about his son and grandson. Sometimes I use the phrase "Some people's wives" when referring to my wife Peggy. Most times her ideas are great. Most times her ideas even bring me enjoyment. In fact, most of the time, I'm glad when she shares one of her ideas with me. But then sometimes I just shake my head and say, ( usually under my breath of course so she can't hear me, ) "some people's wives." One of those times happened a few months ago when Peggy said to me......"We need to build a chicken coop." Well I knew in this case "We" meant "You" and I also wondered what we needed with a chicken coop. So, to find the answer to "Why do we need a chicken coop?"...I went to the reason for this question, which was Peggy. Her answer made perfectly good sense when she answered "To raise chickens.".......Hmmmmm I mumbled while scratching my bald head. Then my second question was directed to myself......"Why do we want to raise chickens?"
I immediately told my wife,,,,, "I'm not gonna slaughter any chickens." Now don't get me wrong. I love chicken. Chicken is probably my favorite meat and if cooked properly is very healthy, but if the Good Lord had want me to slaughter my own chickens, He wouldn't have put a Kroger up on Hwy. 5. She then informed me she just wanted hens so we would have fresh eggs. As she mentioned fresh eggs my mind again started working in that weird way it sometimes does. If you read back a couple of sentences, you will notice I mentioned the word ...HEALTHY....Hmmmm I said.
As most of you know, a little over two years ago I had my heart rebuilt. That's right. My heart was reconstructed with four bypasses and a new valve. A Pig Valve if you will. The doctor told me I hadn't taken very good care of myself. When he finished with my surgery and was about to send me on my way, he told me I had been given a new lease on life and unless I was ready to check out of this place, I needed to take a little better care of myself. I had given cigarettes up a while back and hadn't been much for alcohol for years but now I needed to put the pipe down and eat a little more healthy. There's that word again ...Healthy.... Well, I did put the pipe away and for awhile I ate very healthy. I had my weight down and was feeling good. Then it happened. I started going back for seconds. One donut turned into two. One scoop of ice cream turned into the whole pint. Darn,,,,, food sure does taste good!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Then I realized I was headed down the wrong road again so I ask my doctor to set me up with a nutritionist. This he did and once again things were going good. Then, as I stated earlier, my wonderful wife has this great idea. She wants a "chicken coop". Again I shook my head as I said to myself, ( of course under my breath again ) "My Wife the Chicken Rancher".....Then, as my mind was working' I thought, "surely I can talk her out of this." After all, we hardly ever eat eggs any more. You know..."the HEALTHY thing.....eggs are full of cholesterol. Maybe she just needs a pet I thought. I had asked her a while back if she wanted another dog. She said she didn't as it would be hard to go anywhere over night because we would have to ask someone to feed it. I know....we could get a herd of turtles. They are maintenance free and I remember once my Uncle C. W. fed me some turtle and it tasted real good and I hear it's pretty healthy. We could have a snake farm. I once ate rattle snake and I even liked the taste of it. Or even an ant farm. They say ants are full of protein. I once had an ant farm when I was a kid and it was no trouble at all until I dropped it and it broke and those little suckers went everywhere. Mom had me walking around for a week with a can of Raid performing chemical warfare on my pets. I became the Jeffery Dahmer of the ant world. I think that's why I have a hard time even today killing anything. Or how about a cat or two I thought and then I shook my head again. NAWWWW I said to myself...I never really have liked cats but again I thought to myself...I do like Chinese.
Well, once again Peggy got her way. We built her a chicken coop. Remember here, "when I say we, I really mean me". Since we live in Douglasville we call it the "Coop D' Ville". We haven't got us any chickens yet but maybe we will this week. Peggy says we can give the eggs we don't use away. We're just extended the acre plus farm. All of our other animals are wild so domesticated chickens may be a pleasant thing to have around for awhile. You see, the birds we have eat all our cherries and blueberries. The squirrels eat all the apples and pears. The deer eat out of the garden and this year the rabbits have gotten fat on the beans. I would love a good ol' pot of rabbit stew. Well at least the critters have let us have the tomatoes, cucumbers and peppers. I guess we will have to buy the food for the chickens, then I will have to learn the southern pronunciation of "guano". As a young fellow I just called it chicken _______! You can fill in the blank !!!!!!
SOME PEOPLE'S WIVES !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
On the television show Pawn Stars, the Old Man sometimes uses the phrase "Some people's children" when talking about his son and grandson. Sometimes I use the phrase "Some people's wives" when referring to my wife Peggy. Most times her ideas are great. Most times her ideas even bring me enjoyment. In fact, most of the time, I'm glad when she shares one of her ideas with me. But then sometimes I just shake my head and say, ( usually under my breath of course so she can't hear me, ) "some people's wives." One of those times happened a few months ago when Peggy said to me......"We need to build a chicken coop." Well I knew in this case "We" meant "You" and I also wondered what we needed with a chicken coop. So, to find the answer to "Why do we need a chicken coop?"...I went to the reason for this question, which was Peggy. Her answer made perfectly good sense when she answered "To raise chickens.".......Hmmmmm I mumbled while scratching my bald head. Then my second question was directed to myself......"Why do we want to raise chickens?"
I immediately told my wife,,,,, "I'm not gonna slaughter any chickens." Now don't get me wrong. I love chicken. Chicken is probably my favorite meat and if cooked properly is very healthy, but if the Good Lord had want me to slaughter my own chickens, He wouldn't have put a Kroger up on Hwy. 5. She then informed me she just wanted hens so we would have fresh eggs. As she mentioned fresh eggs my mind again started working in that weird way it sometimes does. If you read back a couple of sentences, you will notice I mentioned the word ...HEALTHY....Hmmmm I said.
As most of you know, a little over two years ago I had my heart rebuilt. That's right. My heart was reconstructed with four bypasses and a new valve. A Pig Valve if you will. The doctor told me I hadn't taken very good care of myself. When he finished with my surgery and was about to send me on my way, he told me I had been given a new lease on life and unless I was ready to check out of this place, I needed to take a little better care of myself. I had given cigarettes up a while back and hadn't been much for alcohol for years but now I needed to put the pipe down and eat a little more healthy. There's that word again ...Healthy.... Well, I did put the pipe away and for awhile I ate very healthy. I had my weight down and was feeling good. Then it happened. I started going back for seconds. One donut turned into two. One scoop of ice cream turned into the whole pint. Darn,,,,, food sure does taste good!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Then I realized I was headed down the wrong road again so I ask my doctor to set me up with a nutritionist. This he did and once again things were going good. Then, as I stated earlier, my wonderful wife has this great idea. She wants a "chicken coop". Again I shook my head as I said to myself, ( of course under my breath again ) "My Wife the Chicken Rancher".....Then, as my mind was working' I thought, "surely I can talk her out of this." After all, we hardly ever eat eggs any more. You know..."the HEALTHY thing.....eggs are full of cholesterol. Maybe she just needs a pet I thought. I had asked her a while back if she wanted another dog. She said she didn't as it would be hard to go anywhere over night because we would have to ask someone to feed it. I know....we could get a herd of turtles. They are maintenance free and I remember once my Uncle C. W. fed me some turtle and it tasted real good and I hear it's pretty healthy. We could have a snake farm. I once ate rattle snake and I even liked the taste of it. Or even an ant farm. They say ants are full of protein. I once had an ant farm when I was a kid and it was no trouble at all until I dropped it and it broke and those little suckers went everywhere. Mom had me walking around for a week with a can of Raid performing chemical warfare on my pets. I became the Jeffery Dahmer of the ant world. I think that's why I have a hard time even today killing anything. Or how about a cat or two I thought and then I shook my head again. NAWWWW I said to myself...I never really have liked cats but again I thought to myself...I do like Chinese.
Well, once again Peggy got her way. We built her a chicken coop. Remember here, "when I say we, I really mean me". Since we live in Douglasville we call it the "Coop D' Ville". We haven't got us any chickens yet but maybe we will this week. Peggy says we can give the eggs we don't use away. We're just extended the acre plus farm. All of our other animals are wild so domesticated chickens may be a pleasant thing to have around for awhile. You see, the birds we have eat all our cherries and blueberries. The squirrels eat all the apples and pears. The deer eat out of the garden and this year the rabbits have gotten fat on the beans. I would love a good ol' pot of rabbit stew. Well at least the critters have let us have the tomatoes, cucumbers and peppers. I guess we will have to buy the food for the chickens, then I will have to learn the southern pronunciation of "guano". As a young fellow I just called it chicken _______! You can fill in the blank !!!!!!
SOME PEOPLE'S WIVES !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
EULOGY AT THE FUNERAL OF AUNT FRANCIS
Isn’t God Good?
Today we come together to celebrate the life and the home going of Aunt Francis.
On Saturday morning at 1:30 AM, The Lord called to Aunt Francis and said welcome home my child. Job well done.
Some people would say, “Well I see you lost your Aunt Francis.”
I would reply “ No, Not at all.
You may lose your car keys or you may lose your billfold but we didn’t lose Aunt Frances.
You see….we all know exactly where Aunt Francis is.
Yes….God is Good.
When Marlene asked me if I would be willing to share some of my thoughts and memories about Aunt Francis at today’s service, I must admit that at first I was hesitant.
You see, I’m not a trained speaker and I’m a very emotional person.
I told Marlene I know I’ll get emotional. I know I will breakdown and cry.
So, if and when I breakdown…Don’t mistake my tears as tears of sadness….
OH NO…Don’t mistake my tears as tears of distress or despair.
The tears you see are tears of Joy…..You see…My heart overflows with joy at the memory of Aunt Francis.
Joy for the reunion that is happening in Heaven and joy for the life that has been lived on this earth over the last 100 years by a wonderful and loving lady..
If I close my physical eyes, my minds eyes open and take over what I see.
I feel a stillness.
I see a peaceful night with a sky full of more stars than we can comprehend.
I see a campfire …..and sitting on a log by that fire is Uncle C W and Uncle Brodus and Uncle Harold.
And on another log sits Uncle Ralph and Uncle Ray and Uncle Frank and my Dad Jack.
And Stuart is there poking the fire with a stick.
If you remember it was always hard to get Stuart to just sit down and be still and relax.
He had to be doing something. He hasn’t changed I guess.
And as the men sit there telling tales and sharing memories, Uncle Frank gets the attention of all the men as he points at all the women standing in a clearing in the moon light.
There’s my mom Wilma and Aunt Mary and Aunt Larue and Aunt Betty Kitchens and Aunt Betty Hogue and Mama Hogue and leading in their conversation and laughter is Aunt Frances……
And then Uncle Frank says “ I always told y’all them Hogue girls were tough ol’ birds. Gosh it’s good to have them all together again.”
OH what a reunion it must be.
But I not only like to think about what is happening now.
I also like to remember the past.
A few weeks ago, my wife Peggy and I went to visit a lady that is Peggy’s second cousin who lives in Paulding County.
As we were talking. This lady mentioned that she owned a Cemetery lot here at Mt. Harmony.
I had no idea she had ever lived in Mableton.
As we continued to talk, I found out that years ago Aunt Francis had been her Sunday School Teacher.
I had never really thought about Aunt Francis being a teacher, but now, as I remember some of my times spent with her, I can see that she was teaching us in everything she did.
Why didn’t I see this before?
I wrote a blog about Aunt Francis’ 100th birthday last September.
I mentioned how I can remember when visiting her I would be playing with some toy cars in the room next to the kitchen and with all the windows open how she would be singing hymns aloud for all to hear.
She was teaching me at my young age not to be ashamed of my faith. To make a joyful noise and to praise God.
As I received comments from her grand children and my cousins about this blog, it was amazing how they also remembered her always singing hymns.
And not just the chorus or first verse. She would always sing the whole song.
In her singing she was teaching us all to do the job right and if we were gone to do something, to make sure we finished our task.
I remember we were once going on a trip to Houston Texas and thought it would be nice of us to take Aunt Frances to Dallas to see Jimmy on our way and pick her up on our way home.
I was so smart back then it never crossed my mind to look at a map before leaving.
You see, Dallas isn’t on the way to Houston.
Going to Houston by way of Dallas is like going to Miami by way of Memphis Tenn.
It was a long trip but Aunt Francis was a great traveling buddy. She told stories and sang songs and kept us laughing the whole way.
She made the trip much shorter and the journey a pleasant one.
We owned a Motor home at the time and on the way Aunt Frances got locked in the bathroom going down the road at 70 MPH.
All she did was laugh at herself in what some would consider an embarrassing situation.
In her laughing she taught me that sometimes you need to laugh at yourself.
I can remember after we moved to Kirkwood, Aunt Frances driving all the way out there from Mableton and just the two of us going down on Decatur Street to the Pawn shops looking for antiques.
I was only 7 or 8 years old but on those excursions she was teaching me to appreciate the things of the past and to have respect for the beauty of well crafted things.
On one of these trips, I recall she bought me my first set of Golf Clubs.
She was teaching me the gift of giving and although I don’t think she knew it at the time she was also teaching me that I would never be able to hit a 1 iron straight.
She was teaching me that there are some things no one can do.
Yep…My Aunt Frances was a teacher and I think the most important lesson she taught me was about family.
She taught me that without family, you don’t have much.
I learned much of her teachings about family through her children and times I spent with them.
Some of these times they probably don’t even remember.
Like the time Marlene and Dianne were going Ice skating for the first time.
I still remember their excitement before and after going.
I can still hear the giggling of the two young girls.
Or the time when Stuart came home from basic training a he gave me his Marine baseball cap. It was bright red with a yellow “M”. I wore it everywhere with pride as a young boy.
And I fondly remember Nicky taking me squirrel hunting down on the Sumner’s property and him teaching me to keep the lake between me and the Sumner’s house so we would get caught.
I don’t think we were suppose to be there.
And Jimmy,,, I remember you coming and taking me to qualifying down at the Atlanta speedway.
I was about ten years old but Aunt Francis had taught you to spend time with your kid cousin and to nurture him as he grew up.
She taught through example that you love, that you support, that you share and you stay in touch with family.
It’s not important that you give material things to each other but that you give of yourself.
Yep…Today we celebrate the life of Aunt Francis.
She was born Sept 25, 1912 and went to be with the Lord on June 29, 2013.
But one of the big lesson she taught is that the birthday and the day you depart this world aren’t what matters.
It’s the time in between those days that matter.
Yep…. Aunt Francis is now reaping her rewards but may her teachings, her memories and her stories live on for many years.
They will live on through all of you and may God bless her memory.
And once again I say,,,,,,, Isn’t God good.
Saturday, March 30, 2013
OH' HAPPY DAY......IT MUST BE KARMA:
It must be karma. You see, today is March 30th and as I opened my facebook page this morning, one of the first things I saw was the daily posting of "Georgia Fans That Support Mark Richt." No, the Karma was not that the Georgia fans page was there but what was on the page and the date it appeared. It was a picture of and an article written by Lewis Grizzard. You may ask why is this Karma? Easy answer I would tell you. You see, Lewis and I had the same operation on our hearts. Four bypasses and a pig valve installed. Of course I think Lewis had many more problems than I did as his surgery didn't turn out as good as mine. I've always wanted to write a post about my heart surgery but Lewis has already taken all the good lines. You know, like the one about "tearing up every time he passed by a Bar-B-Que restaurant."
I think I've read every book Lewis ever wrote. Some I've read two or three times. His books and articles always made me smile and took me back to the days of my youth. A time when life was much simpler. I think my favorite line in one of Lewis' books was "I don't take tub baths, since I don't wash my face in the same water that I put my butt in". The man had a way with words. Well, getting back to the Karma thing. It's not Karma that the Georgia Fan page was there or even that one of Lewis' articles was there. The karma is that it was there "today", March 30, 2013. You probably don't remember where you were on March 30, 2011 but I do remember where I was on that morning exactly two years ago. I remember that morning but none of the rest of the day. You see, that was the day I had my heart surgery. "Two years ago today."
As I read Lewis article this morning, I once again took a trip back to my youth. Back to when I was eight years old. I went back to the corner of College Avenue and Howard Street. That's where I would pick up my Atlanta Newspapers to deliver to my customers. That's right, I had a paper route at the age of eight. It was said that I was the youngest boy to ever have a paper route for the Atlanta Journal. At the age of eight I had become a "Business Man." It amazes me at how clear all of this is in my mind today, 57 years later. I remember that a daily paper was a nickel and a Sunday Paper was twenty cents. If you paid by the week it was fifty-two cents and by the month it was $2.24 including tax. Even at eight years old, taxes were a thing I could fuss about. It meant that I had to carry pennies with me to make change. When I first got my route, I had 73 customers and when I gave my route up two years later I had 89 customers. I remember thinking that I really made good money back then as I could buy almost any thing I wanted. I must have made seven or eight dollars a week Makes you wonder where all that money got away to. Just across the street from where I picked up my newspapers was a little store that we called the "The Fruit Stand." I'm sure it had another name but to all of us paperboys it was just, "The Fruit Stand." We would all gather there each afternoon while waiting for the big truck to bring us our papers. A soft drink was a nickel and a Chunky Candy Bar was 3 cents. For a quarter you could make yourself sick. I would ride my Radar bike that I had received for Christmas the year before with a basket on the front that would hold two stacks of newspapers side by side. I mean it was a big basket. After picking up my newspaper I would head back down College Avenue, take a right on Kirkwood Road and go until it would deadend into Boulevard Drive. They've changed the name of Boulevard Drive to Hosea Williams Drive. Now don't get me wrong. I liked Hosea and I know he helped feed the hungry and all, but to me it will always be Boulevard Drive.
The first Customer I had was the Bike Shop right where Kirkwood Road would deadend. I later bought a Mo-Ped Scooter from this shop but that's a story to be told later. Not long ago I rode down Boulevard Drive and could still tell you every house I threw a paper at. I could remember where a girl named Becky lived. She was, in my mind a woman of the world, probably in the range of 12 or 13 years old. Much to old and sophisticated for a lowly paperboy such as I, but she was pretty. I also delivered a paper to my friend Billy Watson's house. And then there was the house where Duffy lived. Duffy was older than me, probably 10 or 12 years old, and Duffy was deaf. Even today I can still see Duffy running in the park playing baseball with us or up at the rec center playing ping pong. Duffy was what today, we would call handicapped. If you ever knew Duffy, you knew better. Duffy wasn't handicapped, he was just one of the guys. I heard from another friend from Kirkwood, Bobby Hale, a couple of years ago that Duffy had died. Duffy taught us other boys a thing or two about life growing up. Rest in peace my friend. Now back to my paper route. When I would reach the house of Wendy and Mary Hill, I would stop and take a break. I always thought it was a great place to stop being that the scenery was nice to look at and the conversation was good. A few houses up, in the next block, was a house where a lady lived that had a parrot. The parrot was usually in a cage on the front porch when I delivered her paper and I swear the parrot would always have something to say.
I love to travel back in time. It always seems our youth was a great time to have been alive. But it also seems our youth was just to short, it just didn't last long enough. I guess that's why I enjoy writing so much. It takes me back to that time. It extends the time of my youth. It fills my heart with happiness, joy and good memories. I think that is why Lewis enjoyed writing also. It carried him to a happy place and he was blessed with the ability to take us on his journey with him in a magical way.
Yep, It's been two years ago today and soon after I got home from the hospital I started writing. I had never written before but since my surgery I've written over 80 post on my blog plus numerous miscellaneous post on facebook. Although I know I'm not a Lewis Grizzard and never will be, writing has been good for me. It has carried me to many places, if only in my mind. I hope that maybe, because of something I've put down on paper, you too have been able to go on a wonderful journey to your past. To a time when things weren't so complicated and life moved at a slower pace.
Thinking back to "The Fruit Stand", I remember spending many a quarter in that fine establishment on junk food that couldn't have been good for me. I just wonder if that may have been the beginning of my heart problems? OH well, I guess we can just be thankful for modern medicine and God's Amazing Grace. and the oportunities to go back a few years in time.
Until next time....HAPPY EASTER...and May God Bless you.
It must be karma. You see, today is March 30th and as I opened my facebook page this morning, one of the first things I saw was the daily posting of "Georgia Fans That Support Mark Richt." No, the Karma was not that the Georgia fans page was there but what was on the page and the date it appeared. It was a picture of and an article written by Lewis Grizzard. You may ask why is this Karma? Easy answer I would tell you. You see, Lewis and I had the same operation on our hearts. Four bypasses and a pig valve installed. Of course I think Lewis had many more problems than I did as his surgery didn't turn out as good as mine. I've always wanted to write a post about my heart surgery but Lewis has already taken all the good lines. You know, like the one about "tearing up every time he passed by a Bar-B-Que restaurant."
I think I've read every book Lewis ever wrote. Some I've read two or three times. His books and articles always made me smile and took me back to the days of my youth. A time when life was much simpler. I think my favorite line in one of Lewis' books was "I don't take tub baths, since I don't wash my face in the same water that I put my butt in". The man had a way with words. Well, getting back to the Karma thing. It's not Karma that the Georgia Fan page was there or even that one of Lewis' articles was there. The karma is that it was there "today", March 30, 2013. You probably don't remember where you were on March 30, 2011 but I do remember where I was on that morning exactly two years ago. I remember that morning but none of the rest of the day. You see, that was the day I had my heart surgery. "Two years ago today."
As I read Lewis article this morning, I once again took a trip back to my youth. Back to when I was eight years old. I went back to the corner of College Avenue and Howard Street. That's where I would pick up my Atlanta Newspapers to deliver to my customers. That's right, I had a paper route at the age of eight. It was said that I was the youngest boy to ever have a paper route for the Atlanta Journal. At the age of eight I had become a "Business Man." It amazes me at how clear all of this is in my mind today, 57 years later. I remember that a daily paper was a nickel and a Sunday Paper was twenty cents. If you paid by the week it was fifty-two cents and by the month it was $2.24 including tax. Even at eight years old, taxes were a thing I could fuss about. It meant that I had to carry pennies with me to make change. When I first got my route, I had 73 customers and when I gave my route up two years later I had 89 customers. I remember thinking that I really made good money back then as I could buy almost any thing I wanted. I must have made seven or eight dollars a week Makes you wonder where all that money got away to. Just across the street from where I picked up my newspapers was a little store that we called the "The Fruit Stand." I'm sure it had another name but to all of us paperboys it was just, "The Fruit Stand." We would all gather there each afternoon while waiting for the big truck to bring us our papers. A soft drink was a nickel and a Chunky Candy Bar was 3 cents. For a quarter you could make yourself sick. I would ride my Radar bike that I had received for Christmas the year before with a basket on the front that would hold two stacks of newspapers side by side. I mean it was a big basket. After picking up my newspaper I would head back down College Avenue, take a right on Kirkwood Road and go until it would deadend into Boulevard Drive. They've changed the name of Boulevard Drive to Hosea Williams Drive. Now don't get me wrong. I liked Hosea and I know he helped feed the hungry and all, but to me it will always be Boulevard Drive.
The first Customer I had was the Bike Shop right where Kirkwood Road would deadend. I later bought a Mo-Ped Scooter from this shop but that's a story to be told later. Not long ago I rode down Boulevard Drive and could still tell you every house I threw a paper at. I could remember where a girl named Becky lived. She was, in my mind a woman of the world, probably in the range of 12 or 13 years old. Much to old and sophisticated for a lowly paperboy such as I, but she was pretty. I also delivered a paper to my friend Billy Watson's house. And then there was the house where Duffy lived. Duffy was older than me, probably 10 or 12 years old, and Duffy was deaf. Even today I can still see Duffy running in the park playing baseball with us or up at the rec center playing ping pong. Duffy was what today, we would call handicapped. If you ever knew Duffy, you knew better. Duffy wasn't handicapped, he was just one of the guys. I heard from another friend from Kirkwood, Bobby Hale, a couple of years ago that Duffy had died. Duffy taught us other boys a thing or two about life growing up. Rest in peace my friend. Now back to my paper route. When I would reach the house of Wendy and Mary Hill, I would stop and take a break. I always thought it was a great place to stop being that the scenery was nice to look at and the conversation was good. A few houses up, in the next block, was a house where a lady lived that had a parrot. The parrot was usually in a cage on the front porch when I delivered her paper and I swear the parrot would always have something to say.
I love to travel back in time. It always seems our youth was a great time to have been alive. But it also seems our youth was just to short, it just didn't last long enough. I guess that's why I enjoy writing so much. It takes me back to that time. It extends the time of my youth. It fills my heart with happiness, joy and good memories. I think that is why Lewis enjoyed writing also. It carried him to a happy place and he was blessed with the ability to take us on his journey with him in a magical way.
Yep, It's been two years ago today and soon after I got home from the hospital I started writing. I had never written before but since my surgery I've written over 80 post on my blog plus numerous miscellaneous post on facebook. Although I know I'm not a Lewis Grizzard and never will be, writing has been good for me. It has carried me to many places, if only in my mind. I hope that maybe, because of something I've put down on paper, you too have been able to go on a wonderful journey to your past. To a time when things weren't so complicated and life moved at a slower pace.
Thinking back to "The Fruit Stand", I remember spending many a quarter in that fine establishment on junk food that couldn't have been good for me. I just wonder if that may have been the beginning of my heart problems? OH well, I guess we can just be thankful for modern medicine and God's Amazing Grace. and the oportunities to go back a few years in time.
Until next time....HAPPY EASTER...and May God Bless you.
Saturday, March 23, 2013
JUST ONE OF THOSE DAYS
Today has just been one of those days. You know the kind of day I'm talking about. Some would call it a lazy day. Others would call it a wasted day. It has seemed all day that I just wanted to sit around and do nothing at all that accomplished anything. I guess we could just call this a non-productive day. I'm sure you've had these kind of days yourself. First thing this morning I went to the computer to catch up on the news. I then rode the stationary bike for about thirty minutes. Then I ate breakfast. I then watched a little TV. Then back to the computer to just surf around. All of a sudden, before you knew, it was lunch time. After lunch I went back to the TV and started watching a program called "You Live In What?" Not sure if you've ever seen this program or not but it's a pretty interesting program. The makers of the show go around the country showing different structures people have what we today call "repurposed" and made into their homes. The imagination of people never fails to amaze me. I repurpose a lot of things myself. My birdhouses are mainly built of "repurposed" materials. I have also started to use old rusty tin roofing to paint pictures on. I guess you would call the tin I use a rusty canvas. I have learned through doing this that you don't really have to have a lot of talent to paint something that someone will like enough to buy. You see, I'm not a very good painter. I tell Peggy the only reason I can figure why any body buys one of my paintings is because it reminds them of something their four year old grand child painted.
Anyway as I was watching this program called, "You Live In What?, I got to thinking about repurposing things. I thought about the elementary school I attended, Kirkwood Elementary School. The school was built around 1900, give or take a year, and has now been converted to loft apartments. Same with Roosevelt High School in Atlanta. Even the old library I went to as a child in Kirkwood is now a private residence. There are so many of the old buildings in Atlanta that I grew up around that have been repurposed. The Roxy Hotel, The Briarcliff Hotel and even the old Sears Roebuck on Ponce DE Leon is being "Repurposed". I am glad that these building are being saved and "Repurposed." I wish they had done this with a few others years ago. Buildings like Terminal Station and The Kimball House to name a couple. I wish there was more 'Repuposing" today.
When I ride through Atlanta today though, I do get excited seeing old neighborhoods being saved by the young people moving in. Neighborhoods like Kirkwood, Grant Park, East Atlanta Village and Virginia Highlands. Places like the Forth Ward, Cabbage Town and West End. I'm not so sure if the young folks don't understand the value of "Repurposing" much better than us in the older generation.
Maybe "Repurposing" means a little more to me than it does to some of you. You see, in a couple of weeks I will celebrate the second anniversary of my open heart surgery. What does "Repurposing have to do with heart surgery you ask? Well two years ago the Doctors sawed my breast bone in half. They then stopped my heart from beating and took it out of my chest. They took veins from my legs and "Repurposed" them as veins in my heart in four different places. They then took a valve from a pig's heart and "Repurposed" it as a valve in my heart. So I guess you could say because of "Repurposing" I'm alive today.
When you think about it, all the stories I tell and all the things I write are "Repurposed" things I have heard and seen in my life. In fact, my life it's self was "Repurposed" when I accepted Christ as my Lord. My "Purpose" in life changed.
So as I sit here thinking, maybe this wasn't a lazy day or a wasted day. Maybe it was just God's way of telling me to slow down, to be still and to meditate on the past blessings He has given to me. As the saying goes "God Is Good, All The Time.
May your day be blessed also.
Today has just been one of those days. You know the kind of day I'm talking about. Some would call it a lazy day. Others would call it a wasted day. It has seemed all day that I just wanted to sit around and do nothing at all that accomplished anything. I guess we could just call this a non-productive day. I'm sure you've had these kind of days yourself. First thing this morning I went to the computer to catch up on the news. I then rode the stationary bike for about thirty minutes. Then I ate breakfast. I then watched a little TV. Then back to the computer to just surf around. All of a sudden, before you knew, it was lunch time. After lunch I went back to the TV and started watching a program called "You Live In What?" Not sure if you've ever seen this program or not but it's a pretty interesting program. The makers of the show go around the country showing different structures people have what we today call "repurposed" and made into their homes. The imagination of people never fails to amaze me. I repurpose a lot of things myself. My birdhouses are mainly built of "repurposed" materials. I have also started to use old rusty tin roofing to paint pictures on. I guess you would call the tin I use a rusty canvas. I have learned through doing this that you don't really have to have a lot of talent to paint something that someone will like enough to buy. You see, I'm not a very good painter. I tell Peggy the only reason I can figure why any body buys one of my paintings is because it reminds them of something their four year old grand child painted.
Anyway as I was watching this program called, "You Live In What?, I got to thinking about repurposing things. I thought about the elementary school I attended, Kirkwood Elementary School. The school was built around 1900, give or take a year, and has now been converted to loft apartments. Same with Roosevelt High School in Atlanta. Even the old library I went to as a child in Kirkwood is now a private residence. There are so many of the old buildings in Atlanta that I grew up around that have been repurposed. The Roxy Hotel, The Briarcliff Hotel and even the old Sears Roebuck on Ponce DE Leon is being "Repurposed". I am glad that these building are being saved and "Repurposed." I wish they had done this with a few others years ago. Buildings like Terminal Station and The Kimball House to name a couple. I wish there was more 'Repuposing" today.
When I ride through Atlanta today though, I do get excited seeing old neighborhoods being saved by the young people moving in. Neighborhoods like Kirkwood, Grant Park, East Atlanta Village and Virginia Highlands. Places like the Forth Ward, Cabbage Town and West End. I'm not so sure if the young folks don't understand the value of "Repurposing" much better than us in the older generation.
Maybe "Repurposing" means a little more to me than it does to some of you. You see, in a couple of weeks I will celebrate the second anniversary of my open heart surgery. What does "Repurposing have to do with heart surgery you ask? Well two years ago the Doctors sawed my breast bone in half. They then stopped my heart from beating and took it out of my chest. They took veins from my legs and "Repurposed" them as veins in my heart in four different places. They then took a valve from a pig's heart and "Repurposed" it as a valve in my heart. So I guess you could say because of "Repurposing" I'm alive today.
When you think about it, all the stories I tell and all the things I write are "Repurposed" things I have heard and seen in my life. In fact, my life it's self was "Repurposed" when I accepted Christ as my Lord. My "Purpose" in life changed.
So as I sit here thinking, maybe this wasn't a lazy day or a wasted day. Maybe it was just God's way of telling me to slow down, to be still and to meditate on the past blessings He has given to me. As the saying goes "God Is Good, All The Time.
May your day be blessed also.
Friday, March 22, 2013
THURSDAY'S CHILD.
"Thursday's Child has far to go"....She was born on a Thursday and from the very beginning it seemed her journey would be long. She was conceived by rape. For years she had no idea who her real parents were. She never met her father. Her life was what some would call a "hodge podge," a confused and disorderly mess or a weird collection of things. She was born in a town called "North" which was really in the deep south. It was actually in South Carolina. From early childhood she was raised by relatives who mistreated her. The local children made fun of her and called her an ugly duckling. They called her "yellow girl" and tied her to a tree and threw rocks at her. Did I mention that she was of mixed race? Her mother was of Cherokee and Black descent. Her father was White. She was a Thursday's Child. She had a "far ways to go."
It was an Aunt that raised her until about the age of eight. Raised is a word of many meanings. In this instance it means providing some food and shelter. That was about it. No guidance and very little, if any, love. When Thursday's Child was about the age of eight, her Aunt met and went to live with a Black man that wanted nothing to do with the child. He said her complexion was to pale. She then lived with other family members for a couple of years and was finally sent to New York to live with yet another family member. She would later learn that this woman she was sent north to live with was really her birth mother. This would be the first time she lived with indoor plumbing and electric lights. I know this sounds likes a big improvement in her life but in fact, things were far from better. Her mother mostly ignored her and the Harlem school kids were as harsh as the South Carolina children had been. Her saving grace came when some of the school teachers began to respond to her. She had always done well in school as she had a passion for reading and learning. The other thing that really opened her up was a woman at the church she was attending. The main reason she went to church was because of the music. She loved the old gospel singing and wanted to be a part of the choir. As she became involved in the choir and began singing more and more, this woman came up to her one day, placed her hand on the child's shoulder and said to her..."You my child were born with the hand of God on your shoulder." Thursday's Child said at this very moment, she felt a spark inside her that started a fire to burning.
What you have just read isn't a fairy tale. It isn't a made up story. It is about a real person. A Thursday's Child. Last week as I was reading the old Nursery Rhyme my mind once again started to wander. What day of the week was I born on I asked myself?
Yep...Thursday it was. Just my luck I thought. Of course it could have been Wednesday's and I would have been full of Woe. I have been told I was full of something before but it wasn't Woe. But now I was being told I had far to go. Darn I thought to myself......" I hope it isn't to far. I'm getting pretty old for a long journey."
And then, as my mind often does, I started to think about journeys and distances. I thought to myself..."What makes a journey long? Is it made long because of where you're going or maybe it's determined by where you are starting from? It could be long or short because of who you are traveling with, or whether you are with anyone at all. All of this thinking made me think of Peggy asking me if I wanted to take a walk around the block to which I responded ....."Why? I'm already here." But as I thought of that I remember another journey Peggy and I went on many years ago. It was what many people would call a long journey. We just called it our Honeymoon. You see, most of our friends took a few days for their honeymoon or a week at the most. We took three and a half weeks. We drove the northern route to San Francisco, then flew to Hawaii for a few days and then drove back through Los Angeles and the southern route home. You see.....our journey started at home and ended at home....Kind of like a long walk around the block. But it was a special journey. It was special not because of where it started or where it ended but because of the places it took us in between. The things we saw and the times we shared. It was made good because of who I was with. It was a wonderful journey
Sometimes now I look back at my life's journey and say to myself the line from the song by Jerry Reed..."I've got a long way to go and a short time to get there." Sometimes we look at our life and get a little sad. I think that's how we sometimes look at our life journey when we get a little older. We think "If I had only done this or only done that. If I had only made this decision instead of that one." Or sometimes we try to justify where we are in our journey by a decision someone else made. Or we blame our place in life on where we came from. I've tried to use all these excuses before and none of them worked. None of the excuses satisfied me. Sure I wish I had done some things differently but I really can't complain to much. I've had a very good journey so far. I've had some bad times and I've had some great times. Some of you have had it better than me and some have had it worse. But one thing is for sure. No one has had better travel companions than I have. I've enjoyed the things I've done and the things I've seen on this journey we call life. Why do I think my life has been so good you ask? It's really very simple. You see, I'm just like the lady I was writing about at the beginning of this post. I was born with the "
Hand of God' on my shoulder.
He has watched over me everyday of my life and even though I'm getting older, God's hand is still there. I'm older but I've still got "far to go." You see....."I'm a Thursday's Child." You know, I'm not so sure all of us don't have a little of "Thursday's Child" in us.
In case you were wondering who the lady I was writing about in the beginning was, her name was Eartha Kitt. Some of you will remember her and some of you won't. She wrote an autobiography titled "Thursdays Child." It's worth the read.
In the meantime, be thankful for your lot in life. Sometimes you may forget but You too were born with the "Hand of God" on your shoulder.
God bless.
"Thursday's Child has far to go"....She was born on a Thursday and from the very beginning it seemed her journey would be long. She was conceived by rape. For years she had no idea who her real parents were. She never met her father. Her life was what some would call a "hodge podge," a confused and disorderly mess or a weird collection of things. She was born in a town called "North" which was really in the deep south. It was actually in South Carolina. From early childhood she was raised by relatives who mistreated her. The local children made fun of her and called her an ugly duckling. They called her "yellow girl" and tied her to a tree and threw rocks at her. Did I mention that she was of mixed race? Her mother was of Cherokee and Black descent. Her father was White. She was a Thursday's Child. She had a "far ways to go."
It was an Aunt that raised her until about the age of eight. Raised is a word of many meanings. In this instance it means providing some food and shelter. That was about it. No guidance and very little, if any, love. When Thursday's Child was about the age of eight, her Aunt met and went to live with a Black man that wanted nothing to do with the child. He said her complexion was to pale. She then lived with other family members for a couple of years and was finally sent to New York to live with yet another family member. She would later learn that this woman she was sent north to live with was really her birth mother. This would be the first time she lived with indoor plumbing and electric lights. I know this sounds likes a big improvement in her life but in fact, things were far from better. Her mother mostly ignored her and the Harlem school kids were as harsh as the South Carolina children had been. Her saving grace came when some of the school teachers began to respond to her. She had always done well in school as she had a passion for reading and learning. The other thing that really opened her up was a woman at the church she was attending. The main reason she went to church was because of the music. She loved the old gospel singing and wanted to be a part of the choir. As she became involved in the choir and began singing more and more, this woman came up to her one day, placed her hand on the child's shoulder and said to her..."You my child were born with the hand of God on your shoulder." Thursday's Child said at this very moment, she felt a spark inside her that started a fire to burning.
What you have just read isn't a fairy tale. It isn't a made up story. It is about a real person. A Thursday's Child. Last week as I was reading the old Nursery Rhyme my mind once again started to wander. What day of the week was I born on I asked myself?
- Monday's child is fair of face,
- Tuesday's child is full of grace,
- Wednesday's child is full of woe
- Thursday's child has far to go,
- Friday's child is loving and giving,
- Saturday's child works hard for a living,
- But the child who is born on the Sabbath Day
- Is bonny and blithe and good and gay.
Yep...Thursday it was. Just my luck I thought. Of course it could have been Wednesday's and I would have been full of Woe. I have been told I was full of something before but it wasn't Woe. But now I was being told I had far to go. Darn I thought to myself......" I hope it isn't to far. I'm getting pretty old for a long journey."
And then, as my mind often does, I started to think about journeys and distances. I thought to myself..."What makes a journey long? Is it made long because of where you're going or maybe it's determined by where you are starting from? It could be long or short because of who you are traveling with, or whether you are with anyone at all. All of this thinking made me think of Peggy asking me if I wanted to take a walk around the block to which I responded ....."Why? I'm already here." But as I thought of that I remember another journey Peggy and I went on many years ago. It was what many people would call a long journey. We just called it our Honeymoon. You see, most of our friends took a few days for their honeymoon or a week at the most. We took three and a half weeks. We drove the northern route to San Francisco, then flew to Hawaii for a few days and then drove back through Los Angeles and the southern route home. You see.....our journey started at home and ended at home....Kind of like a long walk around the block. But it was a special journey. It was special not because of where it started or where it ended but because of the places it took us in between. The things we saw and the times we shared. It was made good because of who I was with. It was a wonderful journey
Sometimes now I look back at my life's journey and say to myself the line from the song by Jerry Reed..."I've got a long way to go and a short time to get there." Sometimes we look at our life and get a little sad. I think that's how we sometimes look at our life journey when we get a little older. We think "If I had only done this or only done that. If I had only made this decision instead of that one." Or sometimes we try to justify where we are in our journey by a decision someone else made. Or we blame our place in life on where we came from. I've tried to use all these excuses before and none of them worked. None of the excuses satisfied me. Sure I wish I had done some things differently but I really can't complain to much. I've had a very good journey so far. I've had some bad times and I've had some great times. Some of you have had it better than me and some have had it worse. But one thing is for sure. No one has had better travel companions than I have. I've enjoyed the things I've done and the things I've seen on this journey we call life. Why do I think my life has been so good you ask? It's really very simple. You see, I'm just like the lady I was writing about at the beginning of this post. I was born with the "
Hand of God' on my shoulder.
He has watched over me everyday of my life and even though I'm getting older, God's hand is still there. I'm older but I've still got "far to go." You see....."I'm a Thursday's Child." You know, I'm not so sure all of us don't have a little of "Thursday's Child" in us.
In case you were wondering who the lady I was writing about in the beginning was, her name was Eartha Kitt. Some of you will remember her and some of you won't. She wrote an autobiography titled "Thursdays Child." It's worth the read.
In the meantime, be thankful for your lot in life. Sometimes you may forget but You too were born with the "Hand of God" on your shoulder.
God bless.
Saturday, March 2, 2013
JUST WHAT IS NORMAL?
As I pondered this question, my mind quickly returns to something my mother use to say whenever we were talking. I use the word talking, because it sounds much nicer than the word gossiping. We would be talking about someone, whether it be about an individual or a whole family, and Mom would often say "Well, they're just not like us." I always associated her saying this as to meaning either us, or the other party wasn't normal. I never quite figured out who was normal and who wasn't normal. Here I am, many years later, a father and a grandfather and I'm still not sure who, or what is normal. I used a quote the other day from Morticia Addams of the famous Addams Family T.V. Show. She said "Normal is an illusion. What is normal for the spider is chaos for the fly.” It sure makes you think doesn't it. Normal applies to so many segments of our lives.
Thinking about being normal can be whimsical and funny and silly or it can be serious and sad and bring tears to your eyes caused by guilt or some other deep feelings. As I think back in my life I can remember thinking it was normal to drink a 6 ounce bottle of Coke and feel totally satisfied, but at the same time I also believed it was normal to sit down and drink a 6 pack or more of beer at one sitting without getting up once except to relieve myself. As I look back now, I realize that wasn't normal, that was getting drunk. The only thing about this situation that was normal was the act relieving myself. This is an example of thinking something we did was funny or silly and normal at the same time. We believe these kind of things and thoughts were normal for a fellow at a young age. I can also remember times of hitch hiking to Florida and New Orleans as a teen and riding my bike down Stone Mountain before my teen years, and I say these times and experiences were normal for a kid back in those days and times. I remember these and many other experience and I, shall we say " justify" them as being normal but some stories I don't tell because I don't want to give my Grandkids the impression that this behavior is normal today.
I can also remember, and it makes me feel so ashamed to remember, a time when I would look at a child in a wheelchair because of Polio, or a child with Down Syndrome or Autism and I would think to myself, "These poor kids just aren't normal." Many times we try to "justify", there's that word again "justify", don't you just love that word. We try to "justify" some of those feelings by the fact that "Well, we were just young. We didn't know better back then. We've learned from experience." But have we? Have we really learned anything? So many times we judge whether a person is normal or not just by the way they look as compared to ourself, or maybe how they believe about some things. If they don't look like us, they're not normal. If the don't worship like us, they're not normal. Sometimes they even have to eat the same kinds of food as we do to be normal. We say we're not prejudice but do we make the same effort to invite Blacks or Hispanics to our churchs as we do people who look like us, or do we say..."Well, they just don't worship like us, you know, in a normal way." Are we just as happy when a Jew or Mormon moves into our neighborhood as if it was a Christian moving in? You know what I mean...."Normal People". Do we look at a diverse neighborhood as a problem or as an opportunity to learn of other cultures and to share the gospel? How about the friends our kids have? Do we let them pick their friends or do we try to pick all their friends for them? After all, we do know what's best for our kids. Those other kids are different. You know what I mean..."They just are not normal."
I worked with teenagers for years and can name so many kids that weren't normal. Kids that were wild. Kids that were poor. Kids that were dirty more than the were clean. Kids that cussed and drank and did other things that weren't NORMAL. But many of these kids that weren't normal grew up to be fine, successful, even prominent adults. Some business owners. Some preachers. Some teachers. Some even managed to grow up to be good Moms and Dads. They grew up to be NORMAL people. Why you ask? Maybe our normal kids were a good influence on them. Maybe a teacher was a good influence on them. In fact, maybe you, were the influence they needed.
Again I think back to years ago. I think back to hair on my shoulders. I think back to silk shirts with collars large enough to serve as a kite if you would have tied a long tail on my back belt loop. I think back to bright colored striped bell bottom pants and sandals with their soles made of old tires.. I think back to a time when most adults thought "I wasn't normal." The thing that scares me now is I look at the young people today with their body piercings and tattoos and some of the clothes they wear and most of those kids look back at me, and they also think...."I'm not normal." And I ask myself....Will I ever be normal?" I have a feeling I never have nor will I ever be normal.....All I can say is, "That's my goal." I think I'll have some shirts printed up that say......."ABNORMALITY IS THE NEW NORMAL"........I could probably sell them and make a fortune. But then I ask myself....Is being rich normal?
As I pondered this question, my mind quickly returns to something my mother use to say whenever we were talking. I use the word talking, because it sounds much nicer than the word gossiping. We would be talking about someone, whether it be about an individual or a whole family, and Mom would often say "Well, they're just not like us." I always associated her saying this as to meaning either us, or the other party wasn't normal. I never quite figured out who was normal and who wasn't normal. Here I am, many years later, a father and a grandfather and I'm still not sure who, or what is normal. I used a quote the other day from Morticia Addams of the famous Addams Family T.V. Show. She said "Normal is an illusion. What is normal for the spider is chaos for the fly.” It sure makes you think doesn't it. Normal applies to so many segments of our lives.
Thinking about being normal can be whimsical and funny and silly or it can be serious and sad and bring tears to your eyes caused by guilt or some other deep feelings. As I think back in my life I can remember thinking it was normal to drink a 6 ounce bottle of Coke and feel totally satisfied, but at the same time I also believed it was normal to sit down and drink a 6 pack or more of beer at one sitting without getting up once except to relieve myself. As I look back now, I realize that wasn't normal, that was getting drunk. The only thing about this situation that was normal was the act relieving myself. This is an example of thinking something we did was funny or silly and normal at the same time. We believe these kind of things and thoughts were normal for a fellow at a young age. I can also remember times of hitch hiking to Florida and New Orleans as a teen and riding my bike down Stone Mountain before my teen years, and I say these times and experiences were normal for a kid back in those days and times. I remember these and many other experience and I, shall we say " justify" them as being normal but some stories I don't tell because I don't want to give my Grandkids the impression that this behavior is normal today.
I can also remember, and it makes me feel so ashamed to remember, a time when I would look at a child in a wheelchair because of Polio, or a child with Down Syndrome or Autism and I would think to myself, "These poor kids just aren't normal." Many times we try to "justify", there's that word again "justify", don't you just love that word. We try to "justify" some of those feelings by the fact that "Well, we were just young. We didn't know better back then. We've learned from experience." But have we? Have we really learned anything? So many times we judge whether a person is normal or not just by the way they look as compared to ourself, or maybe how they believe about some things. If they don't look like us, they're not normal. If the don't worship like us, they're not normal. Sometimes they even have to eat the same kinds of food as we do to be normal. We say we're not prejudice but do we make the same effort to invite Blacks or Hispanics to our churchs as we do people who look like us, or do we say..."Well, they just don't worship like us, you know, in a normal way." Are we just as happy when a Jew or Mormon moves into our neighborhood as if it was a Christian moving in? You know what I mean...."Normal People". Do we look at a diverse neighborhood as a problem or as an opportunity to learn of other cultures and to share the gospel? How about the friends our kids have? Do we let them pick their friends or do we try to pick all their friends for them? After all, we do know what's best for our kids. Those other kids are different. You know what I mean..."They just are not normal."
I worked with teenagers for years and can name so many kids that weren't normal. Kids that were wild. Kids that were poor. Kids that were dirty more than the were clean. Kids that cussed and drank and did other things that weren't NORMAL. But many of these kids that weren't normal grew up to be fine, successful, even prominent adults. Some business owners. Some preachers. Some teachers. Some even managed to grow up to be good Moms and Dads. They grew up to be NORMAL people. Why you ask? Maybe our normal kids were a good influence on them. Maybe a teacher was a good influence on them. In fact, maybe you, were the influence they needed.
Again I think back to years ago. I think back to hair on my shoulders. I think back to silk shirts with collars large enough to serve as a kite if you would have tied a long tail on my back belt loop. I think back to bright colored striped bell bottom pants and sandals with their soles made of old tires.. I think back to a time when most adults thought "I wasn't normal." The thing that scares me now is I look at the young people today with their body piercings and tattoos and some of the clothes they wear and most of those kids look back at me, and they also think...."I'm not normal." And I ask myself....Will I ever be normal?" I have a feeling I never have nor will I ever be normal.....All I can say is, "That's my goal." I think I'll have some shirts printed up that say......."ABNORMALITY IS THE NEW NORMAL"........I could probably sell them and make a fortune. But then I ask myself....Is being rich normal?
Romans 12:2
Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.
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