What I Learned in High School (abreviated)

All of us learned a lot at good ol' Heavener High. But if I had kept a diary back then, I'm sure there would have been some entries noting days when I'd rather have stayed home from school. However, staying home from school wasn't listed in my parents' "things our kids can do". If we weren't really sick (fever or throwing up were good indicators), we went.

I'm sure that every former student had their favorite teachers (or classes), and that's where I'm going with my blog today. Classes that we enjoyed were usually the ones that held our attention the most.

It's a no-brainer that math has come in handy throughout my adult life...as well as English composition. I can't say "English" without thinking of Mrs. Freeman. Even today I sometimes wonder if I could "diagram" some of the sentences I use in my writing. I'm sure I couldn't, but it was interesting when we were being taught the basics of our language. I know there were other teachers that had a big part in that subject, but it's Mrs. Freeman that I think of first.

Math was Mr. Woolbright for me. He was quite a character and I enjoyed his classes. His was the only class that I ever sneaked out of, though. I've mentioned it in earlier blogs, but I once had to climb through the window at the back of the room in order to make it to the airport in time to take an airplane ride with Mr. Burnett.

The most important thing I learned in high school....drum roll, please...., and you're going to be surprised....was from Ms. Decker's class. Yep, it was 'typing'! I have to put my learning to type up there at the top of the list. Although my career was in air traffic control, I couldn't begin to count the opportunities I had to use the skill of typing (fast and accurate) and how it aided my profession...not only with the administration chores, but when making computer entries at the radar positions when working live traffic. When I was first learning my profession, I would see some of the old-timers hunting and pecking and getting further and further behind as they struggled to use the "new fangled" computers that came along.

As much as I loved science in school...and Mr. Bettes' classes...I have to mention Mr. Henson's shop classes high on my list, as well. I've built many pieces of furniture for our homes that I would have never attempted without the knowledge gained from Mr. Henson's shop classes. On the other hand, Mr. Bettes taught me how to develop camera film (remember film?)...showed us boys how to build rockets after regular school classes....and always had answers to the many questions I asked him in Biology and Chemistry classes. Not only did he have answers to my questions, but he always maintained his quiet, cool demeanor, when, inside, he probably wanted to strangle me.

I've often wished that I had learned another language in high school, but those classes weren't mandatory until after I graduated. I've always been a little envious of those that know some Spanish these days.

Although sports weren't really "classes" (were they?)...I would have to give some credit to Coach Collins for teaching us the importance of teamwork. He showed us that playing (or working) as a team can add weight to a not-so-big group of players. Teamwork...along with superior game planning, on Coach Collin's part...allowed our teams to succeed.

So, that's it...a short list of some of the things I learned in high school. I'm sure I didn't do justice regarding some of my other teachers. These were just a few of the obvious (to me) things, which I attribute to my high school learning, that have impacted my adult life so much.

The Big 50

I’ll bet that when many of you saw the title of this blog you thought it was going to be about someone’s fiftieth birthday.  That’s not to be.  This is about Jessie’s and my fiftieth year reunion of the class of 1959 at Heavener High School.

At least two of our bloggers have already had their fiftieth year reunions (and I’ll bet they were great fun, Bill Babcock and Bill Hinds) but my turn finally came up.  In truth this will be a blog about half a reunion because Jessie and I had to miss the second day of our reunion to attend a funeral service for her brother (W.G. Williams) in Newton, Kansas.

Jessie and I are in a distinct minority in that we were graduated from high school the same year even though she is a year younger than I am.  (She skipped a grade while she was at the Conser school.)  We were also high school sweethearts and got married just after I received my BSME from OSU.

We had about 70 graduates in the class of ’59 with another five or so who were with us most of the time up to the last years in high school but who left to move away or for other reasons were not graduated with us.  Thirty-three people showed up for the reunion.  Some could not come because of the ravages of hurricane Ike prevented them from leaving their homes at the mercy of unscrupulous looters and the like as well as others who had medical reasons for not attending. 

We had not seen some (about four or five) of our classmates since that day in May of 1959 at the West Side School auditorium when we were graduated.  Needless to say, we didn’t recognize everybody at first glance.  It seems like some of us have acquired that signal distinction of the nineteenth century that marked one as being successful, i.e., a markedly increased waistline.  By that measure we are immensely successful.  On the other hand, some were as slim or slimmer than they were way back then.  Father Time has, for the most part, been kind to our faces—or maybe it’s just that our eyesight is not so good any more.

We were seated at the Homecoming football game along the track and watched our beloved Wolves get trounced by the Stigler Panthers.  However, there was one highlight for us—because we are “senior citizens” we didn’t have to pay to get in to see the game.  In addition to our class, there were several people there from classes close to ours.  Some of those people still live in the area (e.g., Janie Hinds) and others are married to members of our class (e.g., Mike Sullivan is married to our Kay [formerly] McCoy.).  Beyond that, there were others who were on the 1958 Wolves (e.g. Johnny Haynes). 

We spent a lot of time at the Downtown Café just chewing the fat (and all kinds of food that couldn’t have been on our normally healthy diets).  Jessie and I went there shortly after we arrived Friday morning and ate breakfast with Bud Thompson and his wife Ginny, Don Frost, and Ed Watkins and his wife. 

One poignant moment for me occurred when we stopped at the house where my grandparents (Frank and Rena Bissell) used to live.  I have a photograph of me when I was less than one year old in front of a small cedar tree at that house.  The tree was about three inches in diameter.  Now that tree is a tall giant about sixteen inches in diameter.  I wonder how that happened?  Surely I cannot be that old!

We were saddened by the state of the downtown section of Heavener.  All the businesses we knew were gone and many of the buildings had been demolished.  One of our favorite hangouts (the Coffee Shop) is gone as is the old bus stop that was on the corner next to it.  One good sign was the addition that is being made to the library.  The house I grew up in is gone, a victim of a fire and the old dirt road in front of it is now paved. 

All-in-all, it was a time of mixed emotions.

The Bike Jump

Mercy, I'v been sitting here reading some of the blogs you guys have been writing and it is bringing back so many memories!!

In my Jr High and High School years we lived over. in what was called "Cox Addition" I never knew why it was called that but it was. During my grade school years we lived just west of the grade school up that hill and we were right up at the top. Stan Tucker lived about half way up on the next street south of us, so I could go down the ally behind our house and stop at his house and we would go on to school together. Dr. Hogaboom (spell?) lived directly behind us and we always had to watch crossing the street to make sure Dr. Hogaboom wasn't coming. He was noted for how fast he drove and he might be a little "high" also. He had a drinking problem.

Then I remember riding my bike down that hill to school. There was a bar ditch at the upper west end of the school yard and I would hit that ditch and jump several feet in the air with my bike. Then the bright idea struck! Just how far could I jump if I really got up my speed coming down that hill?? So I let all of my friends know to be sure to watch when I came back to school after lunch. (Most of us did go home for lunch, only the "country kids" brought their lunches.) So on that fateful day I started from the top of the hill and got up my speed really good. I crossed over onto the sidewalk and then went across the Kelly's lawn and got a good staraight shot at that ditch. I remember sailing into the air and doing a flip in the air, the next thing I remember is waking up on the couch outside of Mrs. Johnson's office. I was having a hard time breathing, my chest hurt really bad. The school nurse kept me there until I felt better, and then sent me back to my classroom. Mercy! Amazing - no broken bones!

Calling all Heavenerites

Attention all Heavenerites, we need your help. Now.

Have anything to say about Heavener? Say it in a blog. You don’t have to be a writer by trade. You might want to just list your thoughts, tell about places you’ve been, about places you’re going, about your remembrances of growing up in Heavener, people you’ve met, or a vacation you’ve gone on or intend to take some day.

Bill Babcock , Chuck Hudlow , Glen Lazalier , Craig Hall and I, along with a few others have all written a blog of some sort and all we ask is that people read them and comment. The above mentioned usually comment when the others write and publish something. Seldom anyone else, though.

I e-mailed everyone in my mailbox that is from Heavener, about 90 people or so – I have so many that I grouped them all together under ‘Heavener contacts’ a while back. Heavenerites are important to me and every time I want to send an obit of someone from Heavener or some news, I can send it to them all at once, with one click of a button.

So I did that the other day inviting anyone from Heavener that might want to give it a shot. Some did, five to be exact. Hey, that’s a start.

Craig Hall a few years ago thought of a way to get news and photos out by starting Heavener On Line. It went over big, but Craig was spending too much time on the computer and not enough on his job as president of a bank. He unfortunately had to change jobs and before long that was the end of HOL. After a job change or two, he still wanted to do something – thus he started blogging and he contacted a few who wrote for HOL previously to join him.

He started a Heavener group and asked us if we wanted to join his newest endeavor. That’s all it took, but only a few of us. Some were already blogging, anyway, like Bill Babcock . Tired of so few being interested, however, I contacted all of my Heavener contacts. The latest folks to join include Colin Kelley , Roger Cagle , Jerry Johnston , David Hinds and Bill Hinds.

You may remember Jerry Johnston from his football-playing days as a star quarterback for the Wolves, in the late 1950s and early 1960s. He went on to coach and is now the first full-time Athletic Director at Poteau High School . Colin Kelley played on some of those good Wolves teams, too. Roger is a successful oil man, living in London , yes, that London across the pond. David Hinds , who was a ’65 graduate with yours truly and Roger, is getting ready to move to Chili as a missionary. Bill Hinds is one of David’s brothers.

They all are welcome, as is anybody in Heavener. Contact me ( TYR130190@suddenlink.net ), Chuck (chuckhud@gmail.com), Glen (lazalier@cafes.net)or Craig (thecraigman2003@yahoo.com) and show me some love for Heavener.

Greatings From Temperance, Michigan

Hello From Michigan! - And Fall is in the air here. I love this time of year, cool mornings & evenings altho it does warm up in the middle of the day and afternoon. Even gets up to 80 sometimes. :)

I have been browsing thru some of the posted blogs by Bill B, John & Glen. It is good to be reminded of events from the past and of our growings up in Heavener. Mercy! I have to say you guys are pretty good writers, especially for small town Okies!

My wife Kay & I live on a small acreage in southeast Michigan, just north of Toledo, OH - Toledo is a local call for us. Most of our neighbors have horses and there are two very large riding stables directly across the road from us. I got rid of our horses last year. We had a small black pony I had bought for the grandkids, a registered American Pony and a Standard Bred Mare. My Mare was 25 yrs old so it was time for me to lighten my work load, besides I couldn't ride anymore, I have arthritis in my knees and it is difficult.

I am still designing Power Distribution for Detroit Edison which I have been doing for about 12 years. My wife works for the Bedford School District, she works in Special Ed which I believe takes a very special person to do.

I don't know how I will do as a blogger but I'll kinda take my cues from you guys. I am a political nut of a conservative nature and I love keeping track of the thoroughbreds and watching the big races. Curlin, the reigning "Horse of The Year" is running tomorrow at Belmont Park in New York. ttyl

Tribute to Teddy

We lost a friend recently, but I lost a great friend.

You don’t know him, but Ted Leach , arguably an icon, at least in Carthage , passed away recently. I say Carthage because that’s where he lived. The Panola Watchman will have a difficult time replacing Ted Leach , its sports editor. Maudie Leach, his wife, will never be able to replace him.

Ted Leach knew sports and coverage of it like nobody else, as far as I’m concerned. Small newspaper-wise, Leach’s sports coverage was second to none. He single-handedly made sure every athlete in Carthage got his or her name in the Watchman, if for no other reason than just being on a team. Most of them got their picture published at least once – Maudie probably took it, too.

Wherever Ted was, there was Maudi. They went together like, well, like ice cream and a cone, for lack of a better description. In other words, where you saw one, you saw the other, and vice versa.

Ted’s coverage of Carthage sports was impeccable, down to every last stat, be it a batting average, a shooting percentage in basketball, a time in track, or a golf score. Whatever.

He covered the kids’ sports, too. He had to figure little league stats by hand in the early days, but he ran every stat in the paper for Carthage and Beckville teams. At his funeral service, the Carthage football team, the boys basketball team, the girls basketball team and the volleyball team were on hand, all at the funeral home sitting on the floor, standing, in addition to all the friends and family. A football stadium would have been more fitting and it would have been full, too

He was probably thrown out of every basketball gym, every baseball park and every football stadium in East Texas at one time or other. If for no other reason than making sure every basketball referee, every football official or every baseball umpire made the right call on a Carthage athlete. Not always the right call, but at least a good call. He knew every rule as well as any referee ever did.

Ted was also very funny. I can never forget the time we were going to see the Dallas Cowboys. As sports editor of the Longview News-Journal, I always covered the Dallas Cowboys, Ted always went with me to take photos. One Sunday, I picked him up at the newspaper office and we got about 15-20 miles down I-20 when he said, “Wait, I’ve got to go back. Go back! I forgot my teeth.!”

Dentures were something he hardly every wore, because he could eat almost anything without them. But he knew he would be on the sidelines with the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders.

He always went to coaching school with George (Whitley) and me. George, sports editor of the Henderson Daily News and later the White Oak Independent, and I were well aware of his stories, but we figured we’d only have to hear one. It took him practically the entire trip to tell one story, whether it was about one of Carthage ’s athletes or a fish story, because he also wrote an outdoors column for the News-Journal.

Still wanted to go

After his health has gotten so bad, he still wanted to go, even in a wheelchair. His van was equipped to carry a wheelchair in the back. George drove Ted’s van. We went to Dallas , Ft. Worth and Houston . We never got to go to San Antonio (by that time, I had retired).

One year in Houston , we had started to walk across the street over to Astro Hall, to see the all the booths and to visit with as many coaches as we could. Johnny Green, sports director of the Texarkana Gazette, and I took off across the street, before all of a sudden we remembered Ted was going, too. There he was, still back behind us with George. It was hot that day, too, but Ted wheeled himself across the street and across the parking lot to Astro Hall.

The moment was funny, because we had forgotten about Ted.

Ted despised Leon Spencer, longtime basketball coach of Henderson County and Trinity Valley . Spencer would always get into it with Audie Apple, coach of the Panola Ponies. When they got into an argument, Ted, working at the scorers table, got into it with Spencer.

Once, Ted yelled at Maudie, standing at the end of the court with a camera, “Maudie, get a picture of Leon and Audie arguing … don’t miss it!”

Once, at a Panola-Kilgore basketball game, the lights went out, and Ted sighed, “I hope that wasn’t Michael (a grandson).” Turns out, it was Michael, who at the time was just a mere little boy, running underneath the steps at Panola gym and just flipped a switch, not knowing it was a light switch. With vapor lights, of course, once they’re turned off, it takes a while for them to come back on. The game had to be delayed for the lights to come back on. Think Ted didn’t give Michael what for?

Another time, when his grandson, Danny, a big lineman and kicker for the football team at Carthage , lined up to kick a medium (25-35-yard) field goal, the kick went right through the uprights. Ted pushed the sliding window in the press box open and yelled, “Way to go Danny, it would have been good from 50!”

Once, at a football game in Kilgore, he was standing on the sidelines (that’s how he covered games out of town) yelling so loudly, the referee had to ask him to please quit. Apparently, Ted called the ref a “Homer,” and the ref didn’t like it and promptly asked Ted to leave the stadium. Ted said, “Why …? I just thought your name was Homer.”

Once Ted was your friend, he was always your friend. One time, I told my managing editor, Joe Calvit, I was interviewing for a public relations job with the Dallas Cowboys in 1976. The editor, Ed Leach, Ted’s father, caught wind of it, and asked Ted to come to Longview as the sports editor. Ted agreed, but only if I took the job with the Cowboys. I didn’t get the job and Ted still came to the newspaper, but not as sports editor but as a columnist for the news side. That’s when I became friends with Ted.

One More Try--Comments Requested

Camping at Crossville

 “You’re not going to take that with us, are you?” Jessie asked.

“Well, of course I am,” I replied.

 This conversation was repeated about three times each year some twenty five to thirty years ago as we prepared to go to the campground at Crossville, Tennessee.  And each time I would load the massive redwood chaise lounge on top of our Camel popup tent trailer complete with its mattress-like seat insert.  I suppose we did look a little like the Beverly Hillbillies (or Okies in “Grapes of Wrath”) with the little trailer loaded with the lounge and three bicycles on top.  But once we got to the campground everybody wanted to lie in it because it was so comfortable.

 Crossville is at an elevation of about 1900 feet and is usually five to ten degrees cooler than our home near Hillsboro.  The Methodist church owned a campground to which several of my coworkers and I, along with some other friends, would go each Memorial Day, Fourth of July, and Labor Day.

 All of us were young with growing families.  We would spend the long weekend associated with the holidays at the campground.  Each family had from two to four children and, with the usual attendance of ten to fifteen families, we had a herd of kids numbering close to forty.  Ages of the children ranged from infants in arms to about ten or so.  For the mothers it was a little bit of heaven as the kids ranged across the campground freely.  Everyone took responsibility for the children in the vicinity of his camp, no matter to which family they belonged.

 Facilities at the campground consisted of a central toilet, a bathhouse, a swimming pool, and lots of tree shaded space.  The toilet was unisex in that it had a sign on the door.  On one side it said “Women” and on the other “Men”.  Whoever entered simply turned the sign to the proper side. Of course, there were times when a bunch of women (or men) would essentially take over the toilet by entering before the previous users vacated.

 The swimming pool had a leak so fresh water from a well was added to the pool continuously.  This resulted in a very cold pool.  I delighted in coming to the pool shortly after daylight, having finished my two mile run, and diving in.  The shock of the cold water really started the day off right.

 The pool was also the scene of the regular belly flop contest among the men.  We gave up being judged on points for style and arrived at a simple scoring system.  (Remember, almost all the men were engineers.)  Half the score was derived from the distance reached by the outstretched arms of the flopper.  The other half came from the distance over the edge of the pool the wave made by the flop reached toward the bathhouse.  Each man had three tries and kept his best score.

 Early morning was dominated by breakfast.  What will we have?  When will we have it?  Nothing else can taste as good as a fresh cooked breakfast of pancakes made over a camp stove.  Biscuits were cooked on the same stove in a sort of Dutch oven made up of large and deep pans.  Eggs and bacon or sausage filled out the rest of the menu.  Immediately after breakfast thoughts turned to lunch.  What will we have?  When will we have it?  And, of course, this was repeated as dinner time neared.  You can see that we were pretty well focused on food.  Dinner would be steaks or pork chops accompanied by fresh fruit and the marvelous desserts we had brought from home.

 After dinner we would gather at a central location and play games and sing.  One by one we would drift off to our tents or trailers to sleep.  The last ones to leave would usually save their serious conversations to the very end.

 On Saturdays we would go as a group to the Cumberland Playhouse for a matinee performance of a musical.  The local company was comprised of a core of professionals and a cadre of volunteers who both acted and served as stagehands.  Probably the most enjoyable time I had at one of these was for a performance of Carousel.  The leading lady was no Shirley Jones but she was very, very good.  The same can be said of all the other cast members.  To this day I get teary-eyed whenever I hear “You’ll Never Walk Alone”.

 On Sunday morning we had a church service with campers providing everything from the preaching to the music. 

 It was a wonderful time.  Once the children grew up and began going away to university we tried to have similar camping experiences but they were never the same.  It was a time that was truly only to be enjoyed once.

 

 

 

From blog to reality

Does anybody read these blogs? I mean besides someone from Heavener? Yes and yes, on both counts. I can truthfully say that somebody besides those of us who are in the Heavener group read them.

Somebody right here in Tyler , TX . Kevin Hill, the general manager of CPS Medical, Inc., contacted me not long ago via email and said he had read a blog of mine and wanted to know if we could get together sometime since he lives in Tyler, too.

I thought, why not? It might be interesting to meet someone not from Heavener who read a blog from the Heavener group. Besides, it would be another chance for me to write a blog.

He gave me a phone number to call. Being the curious type, I called to find out where his business was located. Through Mapquest.com I found his office and as it turns he is just about two miles from my house. Easy to find.

Kevin had read the blog I did back on June 1 on Jack Mildren, former OU quarterback who recently passed away. Kevin is a graduate of Austin Reagan High School , played football and Reagan won a state championship, playing Mildren’s Abilene team in something like 1967. He just googled in Austin Reagan on his computer and it produced my blog, because Reagan had played Abilene and my blog on June 1 was concerning one Ray Dowdy playing against Mildren.

Kevin, it turns out, was a sophomore teammate of Dowdy, a senior tackle. Kevin couldn’t believe someone had actually written a blog on Dowdy and Austin Reagan. The subject of my blog was how Dowdy had played against Mildren in high school and again four years later in an OU-Texas game. The facts were correct, Kevin said, which made me feel good because I had gotten my facts straight.

Kevin went from high school to Stephen F. Austin State University in Nacogdoches , and from there on SW Texas State in San Marcos where he received his degree. We had a nice visit – I covered SFA during my days as a sports writer for the Longview News-Journal—and a few laughs about Dowdy, so we had more in common than just knowing Dowdy

I’ve emailed him a few forwards since, and I’ll make sure he reads this blog, too.

So, yes, somebody does read these blogs occasionally.

God’s Providence (or Jessie and the Cottonmouth)

A few days ago, while I was still pretty much down with the aftermath of a couple of surgeries, Jessie had an encounter that illustrates God’s Providence, known by some as “having a guardian angel”.

She was using a weed-eater and hand clippers around our pond in the front field and it began to get dark.  Rather than finishing the roughly ten minutes of work left (which would have involved reaching down with short handled [less than 3 inches] clippers to cut some tough tree sprouts) she chose to stop and  go to the house. 

The next morning she went back to finish the job.  As she clipped the last of the weeds she noticed a snake’s tail in the grass.  She reached out with her long handled (29-inch) loppers and touched the tail in an attempt to discern what kind of snake it was.  (She has no fear of snakes.)  It moved away and she used the loppers to pick up the tail—then it whipped around to strike and she saw the telltale white mouth.  She carefully marked the location by placing her loppers on the ground.  Then she came to the house to tell me.  So I picked up a shovel and returned with her to the pond.

When we got there we could not see a snake.  However, upon close and very careful observation, we saw a bigger-than-a-basketball hole in the ground at the top of the pond bank.  There inside it was a very large snake.  I recognized it as a cottonmouth (and she had already reported the white mouth) and killed it with the shovel.  It measured four feet in length and was as big around as my forearm!  It was a pregnant female that had chosen to nest in the bank of our pond.  Since cottonmouths give birth to live young late in the summer, I burned the carcass to kill the dozen or so little cottonmouths that would have emerged in a few days.

Jessie doesn’t know why she chose to come to the house with so little left to do.  She does know that had she used her short clippers to sever the little tree sprouts she would have been within six inches of the snake’s nest. 

By the way, for those who don’t know, the last two to six inches of a cottonmouth’s tail can be very narrow.  But the body forward of the discharge of the alimentary canal is thick.  Thus, when Jessie saw the tail, all she saw was the last few inches and she thought it might be a harmless snake like the black snakes that live in our attic (but they must be the subject of another blog).

Is there a thing such as God’s Providence?  You bet there is!!!

Cynthia: the caregiver, friend, wife, etc.

Pardon me while I brag on my wife Cynthia.

First of all, Cynthia is good at whatever she does. Whether she’s taking care of me, her Aunt Mable, and as she did before they passed away, her mother and dad.

Seems she has been taking care of someone, for as long as I known her, at least. A caregiver, if you will.

Cynthia is and has been there for me, whenever I need her. I had open heart surgery a little over five years ago, but she stayed right by my side while I was in the hospital. Night and day.

For a time, she had to write all the checks and pay the bills, simply because I was unable to write legibly after I suffered a mild stroke some two and a half years ago. I assume that was the reason, because I used to take pride in my handwriting, printing and penmanship.

Suddenly, I couldn’t even address an envelope to where anyone could read it. So, she took over what had previously been my duties for a while. Writing checks for our bills? Forget it.

Gradually, everything came back to me and now I can write almost as good as I once could. We now pay bills on line and I’m glad.

Still, she always goes to see the doctor with me, in case I have to fill out any paperwork and to hear what the doctor has to say, for I don’t always remember everything I should.

For a time, Aunt Mable was sick after she had some surgery done and had to stay with us for a few weeks. Of course, I did as much as I could, but it was mainly all Cynthia. As usual, she was being a good caregiver.

Her ex-mother-in-law, Dixie Linville, is still a good friend and mine as well. But Cynthia has remained like a daughter-in-law to Dixie . She helps her fill out insurance paperwork, makes doctor’s appointments for Dixie . Dixie even lived with us for a time, and still comes to stay when she has to go to the dentist or a doctor close by.

Cynthia is also good at her job. She works for the federal government and is often called upon to teach others in various parts of the country. Me being retired, I usually travel with her. We’ve been to Dallas , Oklahoma City, Phoenix , Oakland and she’s been to Dallas (for many weeks a time, before we were married), Houston , Nashville and other places without me.

And she still gets requests to teach from time to time.

Now, however, Cynthia has slowed down, not because of age or anything she has been doing for everyone else. She had some surgery of her own – surgery on her spine, to correct a few problems. I get a chance to take care of her.

Everybody has chipped in to do their part. Dixie is staying here at the house, Elaine Swinney , our good friend, has lined up somebody from our church to bring in food for at least a week or two. So, Dixie takes care of the laundry, I try to do my part as a husband taking care of his illl wife, and things are going great.

Cynthia is recovering nicely and getting stronger every day. Everything will be back to normal in a few weeks, but Cynthia will not be in any pain any longer. For that, and a lot of things, I’m thankful.

Come On Blog Readers

Hey, all you who read these blogs.  How about making a comment?  Say "I hated it" or "I loved it" or "It was so boring" or "It was fascinating" but please say something.  We have no way of knowing if there are only three people reading the blogs or three hundred.  Writing a blog with no feedback is a lot like throwing a rock off an infinitely high cliff--one never hears it hit the ground.

So, please make some comments!