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27 juillet Zeke Shortly after my family moved from next door to Mr. and Mrs. Rolley to another small town in southern Illinois; I met a person who would be my best friend for many years. His name was "Zeke." Zeke wasn't his real name of course. He didn't like his real name because his dad had the same name and Zeke and his dad got along like hot grease and water. One day out of the blue someone called him 'Zeke'. He liked the name so much it stuck. Zeke and I hit it off right away and were like two peas in a pod. We liked the same things, chased the same women when we got older, and even fought with each other over the least little thing, but we never stayed angry with each other for very long and it wouldn't be long before we would be best buddies again. We were wild and carefree kids by nature and didn't care who knew it or liked it. It seemed like most of the young people liked us well enough because we were never without company for very long. I can't say the same for the older generation because they never knew what we would do next. My parents generation called us "rebels" and "hell on wheels" an "accident waiting to happen". When things became mundane in our little town which was most of the time, Zeke would go to great pains to create some excitement. This often resulted in his dad receiving a late night phone call telling him, "Zeke did this", or "Zeke did that", "you need to come down here and get him before he gets into real trouble." His dad would crawl out of bed and go get Zeke, take him home, whip his butt, and tell him not to do whatever it was that Zeke did that time. The older generation couldn't see it, but the only problem Zeke had was he believed life was his castle, and he lived every waking moment of his life filling every room with laughter and joy. This sometimes irritated my parents generation because they had forgotten they had once did the same kinds of things. Now that they were older and past the fun stage of their life, they had become critics of his antics instead of enjoying the pranks he would do. Zeke may have been funny to our generation, a headache to my parents generation, but to me he was a great teacher in his own right. He may not have known he was teaching those of us who were observers of people and studied why people do the things they do. I learned from Zeke that you don't have to settle for the better off forgotten mundane things life throws your way. With a little creativity on your part you can grab the bulls in life by the horns so to speak and change any situation into a meaningful experience that will be long remembered by your family and friends. OTBP 26 juillet Mr. and Mrs. Rolley As a youth I lived in many of the small towns that dot the map of southern Illinois and in one of those small towns our next door neighbors were Mr. and Mrs. Rolley. I was about seven years of age when we first moved in next door to them. Mr. and Mrs. Rolley didn't have any children of their own, but they loved children very much. I would spend almost as much time at their house during the warm summer days as I would at our home. Mrs. Rolley loved to bake and she did so quite frequently. I was a little blond haired, brown eyed, rascal of a boy, but Mrs. Rolley loved me dearly and on 'baking day' I could smell the sweet aroma of her freshly baked pies gently wafting on the light breeze of those lazy summer days. She would sit them on the window sill to cool and after a short while I would hear her calling my name to come over. When Mrs. Rolley baked pies she always baked a little cinnamon pie crust coated with sugar just for me. I loved those cinnamon and sugar pie crust and still do today. As I sit here writing this short story about Mr. and Mrs. Rolley - in the deep recesses of my mind I can still hear Mrs. Rolley sweet voice calling me to come over to her house on baking day and the aroma of her freshly baked pies and that little cinnamon and sugar pie crust that she made with loving hands for a little blond haired rascal infiltrate my memory senses. It was while living next door to Mr. and Mrs. Rolley that I first learned to ride a bicycle. It was also there that I lost my two front teeth to a big tree in our front yard because I didn't know how to stop the bicycle using the brakes and slammed into the tree to stop it before I ran through the fence that surrounded Mr. and Mrs. Rolley's pig pen. It was also there that I learned pigs will eat coal. This didn't set too well with my father after he learned I was throwing the coal he used to heat our home with in the winter time over into the pig pen for Mr. Rolley's pigs to eat. It was also there that my older brother and I scared the crap out of my little brother so badly by imitating bull sounds and thrashing noises in the woods that he two and one half years younger than I took off at a dead run for home to get away from the bull that wasn't there and dove head first through two strands of a barbed wire gate without touching either strand of barbed wire. My brother and I laughed so hard we could have cried, but crying wouldn't have been manly even to us boys. It was also there that I learned just how strong and hard my daddy's hand of correction was after he learned what my older brother and I did to the younger one. It was there next door to the Rolley's that I learned how to make a sling shot and shoot a bow and arrow, make our own kites to fly, bait my own hook and hog fish down in the creek just below their house. It was also there that I learned you could catch a black snake by the tail and twirl it around your head in bull whip fashion - snap it sharply - and the snake's head would fly off. It was there that I learned you cannot catch a pitch before the batter hits the ball. I still have a scar on the crown of my head from the piece of wood we were using for a bat to prove it. I also learned I bleed pretty easy and my mother didn't appreciate having to take me to the doctor to be stitched up and leave the other children at home while doing so. It was there I experienced a death in the family when my brother eight years older than I lost his wife and baby in childbirth. She was diabetic and knew she could possibly die if she got pregnant, but she chose to try and bring a baby into the world anyway. I don't think my brother ever completely got over losing her and the baby at such a young age. He joined the Army a short time thereafter "to help him focus on other things", he said. But I really think he joined the Army to get away from the memories and the home they shared together. The three years we lived beside Mr. and Mrs. Rolley were filled with many wonderful experiences and I wouldn't change any of them even for a million dollars. I don't have to tell you I was greatly saddened the day mom and dad told us we were moving to yet another small town. But, I have since learned that kids are resilient and rebound quickly from bad news. After the move I didn't get to see Mr. and Mrs. Rolley much, but my world was expanding even though I didn't realize it at the time and a whole new group of people and experiences were waiting for me - just three miles down the road. OTBP 24 juillet Growing up in America I grew up in America during a time when families were large and most every family had four or more children. That was in a bygone age before abortion became legal and the family shrunk to less then two children per family. According to present day national statistics there are now 1.11 children per family in America not counting the illegal immigrants that are swamping our country and keeping that magic number of children at 2.1 per household that is needed for a country to survive another fifty years. In my particular family there were nine children and I was eighth in the birth order. Back then every mother I knew with the exception of a few who were teachers or secretaries worked in her home caring for her family. I was fortunate that my mother worked in the home. I called our home, "Mom's University" because that is where each of her nine children received their education in manners, responsibility, and how to treat others. It was during the evening meal and around our supper table that most of mom's teaching took place because that was the time of day when every family member was present. No one in our family missed supper and the time mom spent teaching her children right from wrong. My mother didn't have a teaching degree or a PhD in Education like most people must have today to prove they are qualified to teach in their field of expertise, but she was the smartest person I knew. Where did my mother get her unique teaching abilities? At her mother's knee, just like her mother had before her. Back then family values were passed down from one generation to the next. Mother's didn't depend upon public television to teach their children how to read, count, or share. They took that responsibility upon themselves and the older children assisted them. I took my daughter on a trip back through time last Father's Day and visited all the houses I lived in during my childhood that were still standing. After visiting the last one, I asked her, "Did you find any one thing all of these houses had in common?" She was quick to tell me, "They were all very small." Which was true. I never lived in a big house during my childhood. Most houses were small and families were close back then. No one I knew had their own room to escape to if we didn't like what was on the radio or television. We went outside and invented a game to play to keep ourselves amused. We didn't have air conditioning to cool the house in the summer, or a thermostat to turn up the heat in the winter if the house was too cold. Most people didn't have indoor plumbing, they had a number three wash tub to bathe in and when nature called we used an outdoor privy some fifty feet from the house. Somehow we all managed to survive our meager surrounding and grow up to become responsible adults. In the summer we went barefoot and wore shorts and took our baths in the local swimming hole and no one thought we were strange. And on those long winter nights we slept three to a bed to stay warm - and on the really cold nights we added another blanket or two on the bed to ward off the cold wind that blew through the cracks between the weather boarding. The next day we added an extra layer of clothing before we went outdoors to play or do our chores. We were tough kids and patriotic to the bone. We loved to fight, baseball, and mom's apple pie. We were taught to be respectful and on parade days when the American flag went by we stood up straight and watched it until it turned the corner out of sight. We respected our teachers and recited the Pledge of Allegiance everyday before classes began in classrooms where we were taught how to think for ourselves. Every boy owned a GI Joe toy soldier, a cap pistol and holster, and a BB gun. We didn't shoot out too many of our friends eyes with them and the whippings we received on our little behinds with those willow branches off the tree in the yard did nothing to harm our little egos. We were America's youth and damm proud of it! OTBP 23 juillet SelfishnessDuring the last two weeks I have witnessed one of the saddest events I have encountered in my sixty-two years of life. I have been going to watch my daughter coach our local travel ball softball team in nearby towns involving 13 and 14 year old girls. Travel ball is a new thing in our community for girls of any age - so it has been fun to watch them progress from playing in a state of confusion on the field to what could become a very good girls softball team if they had more games on the schedule to play. Her team lost its first four games, but has won three of the last four with four games to go. All the other towns around have travel ball for girls beginning as young as 8 years of age and they all have good high school girls softball teams. As you would expect our little community does not do as well and usually finishes near the bottom of the conference at the end of the high school season. I have noticed at each of these contest just before the first game begins a particular scene unfolds. I see a father arrive in a car by himself, unload his lawn chair out of the trunk, and make his way around the ball field to a spot along the fence where he can see every move his daughter makes. He cheers loudly for her whether she does good or bad. It doesn't make any difference to him how she plays - he just wants to assure her he is there supporting her. When the games are finished for the evening she will make her way over to where he is sitting and give him a big hug. During the short time they have to share that evening - they only have eyes for one another. When it is time for the father or daughter to leave, he always whispers, "I love you" and she does the same in return. I am an observer of people and situations and have given this event much thought in the past week as I watch this same scene unfold at the conclusion of each night's contest. I see the sadness in the eyes of the father and daughter and I wonder what in the world was going through the minds of her mother and father when they allowed this situation to escalate to the point where they were willing to sacrifice their family so one or the other of them could control the other or for that person to have their way. I have come to the conclusion following my observations of this terribly sad situation that 'SELFISHNESS' not the 'LACK OF LOVE' for one another is the real culprit that created the scene that plays before my eyes following each ball game. SELFISHNESS is nothing more than one person feebly trying to exert control over the will of another person, and if selfishness is allowed to get out of control in a marriage for very long it will destroy the love that brought them together - and usually results in separation and divorce. Have you thought of this? SELFISHNESS couldn't get a foothold in a marriage if the parents really thought about its destructive nature and what their selfish actions were going to do to their family. If parents truly understood how much emotional pain, suffering, and financial hardship their selfishness was going to bring them in the near future - they would slam the door in its face the first time it came calling. But selfish people do not understand they are selfish - they call themselves strong willed. In reality, selfish people are controlling people and it takes divine intervention to change the spiritual makeup of a selfish person. I am also reminded of a particular scripture as I watch their display of affection for one another block everything else out for the short time they are together, "Let not man tear asunder what God has joined together." When we receive a warning such as this from God - He is telling us if we ignore His warning and do what He has told us not to do - it will have a devastating effect upon our life and we are going to enter into a time of suffering from which we may never recover. When a man and woman are married they become one in spirit - and when children are born to that man and woman they are partakers of both of those natures - and when we allow that 'one in spirit' to be separated, divorced, or divided by selfishness - terrible inner pain results. We may never have thought of this in this way, "external injuries heal with time" but the healing process for wounds to our "inner person/spirit/soul begins when we become willing to forgive the other person for the wrong they have done to us". When we see a person weeping and wailing over something that has happened to them that doesn't require immediate medical attention to their physical body - we are witnessing that person's soul letting us know through their external outlets that there is something very wrong on the inside that can't be seen with the physical eye. To see people in such a bad situation is sad, very sad, but we see it all too often, even among our friends - and maybe it has happened to us. If we are a victim of such wounding, or maybe the person who did the wounding - I want to let you know there is help for you. Jesus said in Matthew 11:28-30 "Come unto me, all you who are heavily burdened (suffering from inner wounds) and I will give you rest (healing for your spirit person).Take my yoke upon you, and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls." A wounded soul or spirit has no rest. The pain the wounded soul or spirit feels controls our thought life causing us to lose sleep at night, and the majority of people who do not understand what has happened to them will do whatever it takes to stop the hurting. Some people turn to alcohol, others turn to drugs and fornication to try and stop the pain. But all of these are nothing more than a persons attempt to apply a temporary fix to a problem that resides deep within them where no external application can reach. Just as soon as the alcohol, drugs, or sexual euphoria wears off - the pain is still there just as potent as ever. Take the advice of our Lord and become a soul at rest. If your spirit has been ripped from its other half through divorce or separation regardless of whose fault it was - forgive them, turn to the one who is the great Physician and allow Him to heal your inner person spiritually. Medicines can relieve the pain of the natural body, but forgiveness is the healing balm of our inner person. OTBP |
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