My Little Red Heads

My little red heads changed my life! They were my first grandchildren who had lived all their lives in the city where I live.

One evening when Ranae was about 18 months old, I went over to pick her up because both of her parents were sick. When I started for the car I couldn't find my keys. My daughter said, "Ask Ranae where they are." How could a tiny little lady know where my keys were. I found a key in my bill fold and started the car. I looked around, and Ranae handed me the lost keys!

She was a quick learner. She learned how to bat a ball, and it was not safe to get too close to her when she was at bat, because she could really hit that ball! She gave me a new grandpa name. She called me PaPa.

She was very observant of their pastor at church, and began to stand on a little stump in our back yard and preach away! When her little sister, Danielle, was born, Ranae was three. She asked me,"Who is going to be Danielle's PaPa?" When I told her I was, she replied "Oh no you're not, you are MY PaPa!" The rivalry had begun.

My wife and I frequently kept them over a weekend. Ranae liked to play like she was the teacher. She would be teaching away, and if Danielle did something she didn't like she would point her finger at Danielle to reprimand her. Danielle would "go into orbit" and refuse her sister's pointed finger. The girls played all kinds of pretend games--school, hotel, restaurant, etc.

When I would pick them up for a weekend, we would go to my house, make out our weekend menu, and then go to their favorite grocery store to buy the groceries. They knew their way around in the store.

My wife became terminally ill. One morning, I went up to the hospital to try to decide what to do. My daughter and girls came up. Ranae told me that she had a dream about Granni. She said that Granni was in heaven. I asked her what Granni was doing. She replied, "She was a dancing!" That broke the emotional log jam. We laughed and cried, and I knew it was time to let Granni go on to be with the Lord.

The girls continued to spend a lot of time with me, and I really enjoyed it!

The girls were very observant as I began a little dating after my wife died. Over a three month period I had three dates with a widow at church. One day she called me to come over, that she had baked some cookies. The purpose of the invitation was to tell me she didn't have time for me. When I told Ranae about this, she compared it to baseball--three strikes and you are out. She later wrote me a letter and told me not to play baseball any more. The girls later played a role in the courtship of my second wife.

Time has passed, and they are no longer my "little redheads." Ranea has married, and Danielle will soon be a senior in high school. Both have developed their own personalities, and are beautiful young women who are looking forward to the careers they feel the Lord is guiding them.

We don't spend weekends together, but family gatherings are always a great pleasure!

My Courtship with My Wife

Every time I go to my church I pass by the house where I met Butch.

In the spring of l936 I was dating a girl that lived in a light-housekeeping residence on Broadway. One day, while visiting my girlfriend, I met another resident at the house. Her nickname was "Butch."

Butch lived with her grandparents that summer. One day two guys showed up at Butch's house to take her out. While the guys chatted in her living room, Butch crawled out the window of her bedroom, and into the bedroom of her cousin's house next door, and solicited her help.

In a short time, both girls entered the living room where we guys were sitting. Each girl took the arm of one of us, and we went out on a double date. Butch took my arm, and I will never forget the feel of her hand on my arm! Our romance was under way!

We dated all summer, swimming, playing tennis, going to movies, taking a walk, etc. Just before college started in the fall, Butch told me that she would give me one week to make up my mind between her and my other friend when the friend returned to start back to college. I had one date with the other girl, and told her "goodbye." No hearts were broken, as she married the guy she had dated back home that summer.

Butch and I dated during the next two college years. We were in a social club at college, went to church, ball game, did all the usual things college kids do.

I purchased her engagement ring at a jewelry store in Lubbock, and we became engaged at Christmas, l937. Then she graduated in June, 1938, and we had a long-distance relationship for the next year.

She was hired to teach Home Economics in the Panhandle, TX high school. I was born in Panhandle, and she met several people who knew my family. I made a few trips to Panhandle, and she came to Lubbock a time or two, and of course we corresponded a lot. This was a rough year in many ways.

In about April or May, 1939, I received a little "Dear John" package. She returned her engagement ring and told me she was marrying someone else. I was broken hearted, but began dating other women. I took the ring to the jewelry store to cancel what I owed. The man there said, "You will be needing this again one of these days. We will store it in our safe, and when you need it, let us know."

I graduated from college in June, 1939, and moved to Amarillo to begin a summer job with a grain company. I went to work on Monday, June 12. After work on Wednesday, I decided to drive over to Panhandle to see if Butch had married that guy. She was not at home, but I was told she would be back shortly, so I waited.

On her return, we began talking, and kissed and made up. To this day, I don't know what the deal was with the other guy. I asked no questions, and his name was not mentioned.

On Friday evening, I went back to see her. We decided that evening to get married on Sunday, June 18. The next day, Saturday, was a busy one for us. She went back to her parent's house, purchased a wedding dress, but did not tell her mother she was getting married.

I sent a telegram to the jewelry store in Lubbock to put the engagement ring and a wedding ring on the bus to Amarillo that afternoon (and they did). I went to a doctor's office to get a medical certificate required; to the county clerk's office for the marriage license; and called a church to make arrangements for a Sunday afternoon wedding. The pastor was out of town, but they gave me the name of the seminary professor who was filling in the next day, and the telephone number of his brother's house where he would be staying. I called the number and made the appointment.

Butch drove from Panhandle to Amarillo Sunday morning, and we had lunch with another couple. At about 3:00 p.m. we four went to the address given me, and the marriage ceremony took place. The only thing I remember about the ceremony was that the question "do you take this. . .to be your lawfully wedded . .. ?" was asked in a question to which we answered "we do" instead of the usual "I do."

We were married! The "reception?" The four of us went to a hamburger place after the wedding.

On Monday, Butch found us an apartment. On the following day, we sent telegrams to our parents. My mother called the local Lubbock paper and reported the wedding. Her father was out of town, building a new home in another city. He bought a copy of the Lubbock paper and read in it the account of his daughter's wedding. We could have been in a lot of trouble with our parents, but they were pleased that we had married, and forgave us for not inviting them.

We didn't have one of those "full blown, with all the bells and whistles" weddings, but we were married in a Christian ceremony, and the marriage lasted until her death in 1995--56 years! She was born, married, and died in June.

I will have more to say about our wonderful life together in a later 89 and holding edition.

My Sister Stella Mae

In early February, 1926, some ladies from First Baptist Church brought some baby clothes and other things, and gave my mother a baby shower. On February 26 my sister Stella Mae was born. I made the remark, "What a coincidence, I have a new baby sister and mother already has clothes for her." I had no idea that my mother was pregnant, and had not yet been told the "facts of life."

We certainly welcomed Stella Mae! She was a doll! She had gorgeous red hair, and mother always dressed her so cute! I remember a studio-made a little girl picture of her that hung on our living room wall--what a beautiful young lady!

Stella and I always got along well with each other. I don't remember any time when we had a serious disagreement.

I lived in the same home with her from her from birth until she was 13. I frequently took her to school in the mornings as I went to work. One day I was taking her and her girl friend to school, and my car was struck from the right in an intersection collision. The horn on the other car activated and kept honking! My young passengers started screaming! Fortunately, no one was injured, but it was an event that Stella and I never forgot!

Recently Stella gave me a picture of me, my wife, and our first son. She told me that it was taken by our mother as we were ending out visit. Stella told me that she went back in the living room after we left, and cried because she didn't think she would ever see my son as a baby again. She has always been tenderhearted, and loved family visits!

We kept in touch through the years with periodic visits back and forth. These were fun occasions!

Now, I am blessed to be living in the same city with her. We call each other nearly every day, keep up with the latest family news, and express our love for each other.

The Miracle of Education

Although sometimes stressful, my education experiences have been extremely positive times in my life!

I entered first grade at Farwell, TX. My teacher was Miss Antoinette Stamps. Her sister, Julia, was my second grade teacher for a little over half of the term. Then we moved to Raymondville, and Mrs. Hunter became my teacher.

I was promoted to the third grade. A week or two into that year my father decided it was too easy for me. He asked the school to promote me to the fourth grade. They gave him dire warnings that missing the third grade could have negative effects on my life later. (I tell my acquaintances that if they observe anything weird about me, it was because I skipped the third grade.)

I thoroughly enjoyed the fourth grade under Miss Bader's teaching.

Mrs. Pittman, in the fifth grade, was a tough lady, but I loved her.

In the middle of the fifth, my family moved back to Farwell, where I finished the grade.

I had my first man teacher in the sixth grade at Muleshoe, TX--Mr. Boone.

Back to Farwell, I entered the seventh, and was valedictorian, giving the valedictory speech at the graduation ceremony.

For my freshman and sophomore years, I attended Texico High School, just across the state line in this twin-cities location. There I experienced my first "hazing". I was a little bit of a rebel at times (especially in my vocational agriculture class under Mr. Young). Three months into my sophomore year I decided to add typing to my class schedule. That was a very smart move! By the end of the year I was typing with a higher speed and accuracy than all but one typing student. Typing skills continue to pay off for me!

Some of my friends were transferring from Texico High School to Farwell High School for their junior year to play football, and I decided to follow them. Although I didn't play football, the move was positive. I loved my classes, and played the leading male role in the senior play my junior year. This enabled me to get to go on the senior trip to Carlsbad Caverns.

I was not an "athlete," but I played a little basketball my senior year.

I was declared valedictorian of my class, and made the valedictory speech at graduation. To my surprise at the ceremony, I was given the "Best All Around Student" award. My name was engraved on a "loving cup," which is still displayed at the school.

Being made valedictorian enabled me to have nine months of free tuition when I entered Texas Technological College in the fall of 1934.

After moving to Lubbock, TX the day after graduation, I was able to get a job at the college as a secretary in the Division of Extension. I worked 24 hours a week the first year, 45 hours a week for the next three years, and for my last year I worked as a student assistant in the Department of Economics and Business Administration, my major department.

My BBA degree in 1939 enabled me to get a job with the federal Social Security Board, where I worked for 39 years, including two years as a U. S. Navy officer toward the end of WW II.

Feeling that God was calling me to become a Christian counselor, I retired from that job and returned to Texas Tech to get a master's degree in counseling.`

After getting my Master of Education degree, I enrolled for the doctoral program, and received a Doctor of Education degree in December, 1981.

My friends and mentors during graduate school were Rev. Mike Horton, Minister of Family Life, at First Baptist Church, and Dr. H. P. Pender at Texas Tech University's College of Home Economics.

While in graduate school, I worked part time in the church's counseling center.

Shortly after graduate school, Mike Horton left for a counseling position in Houston, and I was asked to fill in until the church could get another minister of family life. Since I was nearly 65, hiring me for a full time position did not fit in with church policy. I was given a one year position, and at the end of the year a decision would be made about further employment.

After working there ten years, I retired to take care of my wife, Mildred, who had become ill.

My education enabled me to become a Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist, and I still continue to practice.

The miracle of education continues to pay off--not in money, as I make no charge for my services now, but in the satisfaction of helping others, especially couples, to start and continue happy marriages! I have a new couple scheduled to start premarital counseling later this month.

I praise the Lord for enabling me to get the education I needed to do what He called me to do!

Miracle of moral and spiritual development

These events occurred in about a four-year period, from ages 5 to 9.

One morning my father heard me hammering away, driving nails, in the back yard. He went out and told me that I wasn't supposed to be doing such work on Sunday. I replied, this isn't Sunday, it is Easter! My father was saying, "remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy."

On another day I went over into my friend's yard, picked up a toy and took it home. When my mother saw it she told me to take it back, knock on the neighbor's door, tell them I had stolen this, and that I was sorry. My mother was saying, "You shall not steal."

One day I was playing in the back yard, and saw my mother and sister go to the outdoor toilet. This toilet had an open space in the back, underneath the seat inside. I proceeded to take a look at the bare bottoms of my mother and sister. This was a "three holer," and my mother saw my shadow in the third hole. She punished me and told me how horrible it was for me to do what I did. She didn't say this, but the inference could have been that I was violating the commandment not to commit adultery or fornication.

Still later, after I started to school, my teacher made a speech to all the boys in her class. She said that she was told that we boys were using a lot of bad words around the school toilet. She wanted those guilty to raise their hands. Assuming that she knew I was guilty, I held up my hand. (I assume that part of the bad language was taking the name of the Lord in vain.) I was scared that she would tell my father, and I would really be in trouble (she didn't).

All of the above confrontations by parents and teacher made quite an impression on me.

One Sunday morning during the church service, the pastor gave the "invitation" to those who wanted to have their sins forgiven by asking Christ into their hearts. I was convicted of the need for this, and I went forward and accepted Christ as my saviour. I was baptized that evening in a baptistry just outside the back door of the church. The next day I told my teacher at school about my conversion experience, being baptized, and how excited I was to have Christ and forgiveness in my heart.

The miracle of the modern bathroom

Today, we take bathrooms for granted.

In the house where I live, I have three of them. In my early childhood we didn't have such.

We bathed in the living room near the coal-burning stove. The water was heated on the kerosene stove in the kitchen. We bathed on Saturday night. All the children used the same water.

One night one of my sisters accidentally stepped in the pan of hot water and severely burned her foot. My father started running for the doctor, ran into the closed gate, injured himself, but managed to get the doctor. I remember that my sister was treated with "Jo-he-oil." I have no idea what that was, but it healed her burn.

No bathroom--no commodes. We had little and big white containers that we could use inside. Most of the time we went out to the outdoor toilet.

During the Roosevelt administration we had an agency called the Works Progress Administration. One of their works was to improve the outdoor toilets. During my mother's last ten years, she had one of those, and called it the "WPA."

Her bathtub was half of of a barrel, split longways. It drained through the wall out into the back yard, and water was heated in the kitchen.

In high school I had a bathroom, but no hot water heater, so again, the kitchen stove did the heating of the water. In college I had a hot water heater, but it wasn't automatic. If I was going out for the evening I would call home and ask my mother to light the hot water heater for me.

The next time you are enjoying a hot shower, realize what a luxury it would have been in my early childhood.

Precious Memories of my sister, Lucille

In church my father preached and my mother played the piano, so I took care of Lucille. She was my special little friend! She was always happy!

One of the things that my father did with Lucille was to sit her on his shoulders, hold her arms, and she would do a "flip-flop" to the floor. She loved his doing this! One day, as her feet hit the floor, she fainted. My father never did that again.

Frequently after that, she would say "I have that funny feeling again!" One night my father woke me up and told me that Lucille had died.

The funeral director from a nearby town brought a casket to our home, placed her body in it, and the casket was put in the living room until the funeral that afternoon.

Some of my friends came over and we went out into the yard, and were joking around. I realized that this behaviour was not proper. I went back into the living room, looked at my sister, and replaced the joking with tears.

At the funeral, the preacher said that Lucille was five years, ten months, and 28 days old when she died. That information has remained in my memory ever since. As I write this I am shedding a few tears--she was so very precious!

Generations Preserved

When I picked up today's paper and I found the headline "America at War", I was reminded of another miracle in my life and family.

My grandfather served in the Civil War.

My late wife's father served in World War I.

I served in World War II.

One of my sons was called to active duty due to

the Berlin crisis.

Another son was drafted during the Vietnam War.

A granddaughter volunteered for the Iraq War.

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Due to a job transfer to another city, I missed being recalled for duty in the Korean War when the reserve unit for which I had been commnding officer was activated.

The miracle? Seven wars, five generations.

After a short recovery time for the three who were injured or wounded, all were able to resume their previous careers or start new ones.

Preacher's Kid

As I said in the previous post, Ephesians 4:29-32 has become my goal at this juncture of my life. When I think back over my 89 years, I can see clearly my life has been filled with miracle after miracle.

These miracles will be the subject of this post and many posts to come.

The first miracle, was being born to Christian parents who stayed married until my mother's death in 1949. I was born in the church-owned "parsonage". My father was pastor of First Baptist Church, Panhandle, Texas. If they gave perfect attendance certificates in the Cradle Roll back then, I would have had one.

Even though I was a preacher's kid, I wasn't perfect. Here's one of those P.K. stories.

My parents walked to church from the parsonage. One day...I have been told...I misbehaved in church so on the way home, my Mother broke off a little switch from a tree and spanked my little legs all the way home. Mother's strongest language was "that just provokes me." When she said that, it was time to shape up!

Ephesians 4:29-32

There have been times in my life when my anger and harsh words have hurt others deeply. The Lord finally got my attention and showed me a pattern to follow:
Ephesians 4:29-32.

When I read your request, tears came to my eyes, and the above words came out of my mind into the computer.

This is what I hear God saying:

--Don't grieve the Holy Spirit by using words that do not build up

--with God's help, get rid of negative actions and attitudes

--always be kind and tender-hearted toward others

--forgive others who wrong you, just as God through Christ forgives you.

--apply this in all the relationships in your life

Here is a link to Ephesians4:29-32 if you would like to read these verses.
http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Ephesians%204:29-32&version=31

Welcome

Welcome to my Dad's blog. I hope you enjoy reading the thoughts and wisdom of a man who is 89 years young.

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