CHILD OF THE 21ST CENTURY

Edan, our three years old grand daughter, is already iPhone literate since she can watch a movie, play a game or sing along with varied iPhone apps. She also is well acquainted with the workings of recorded movies and DVDs.
While we were talking to her on the speaker telephone she was telling us all about her play date with a friend. Suddenly she hurriedly remarked to her mom, "Mommy, put MeMe and PopPop on pause while I go to the potty."
Wouldn't we all like to have that pause button on the computer of life where we could pause someone, then go back to the same conversation later? Wouldn't it be nice to be able to push a pause button when we are in a heated conversation with a family member or a business person, freezing the incident at a certain point while we contemplate what to say next to bring peace to the incident?
Edan has a good idea. Maybe someone will install that pause button on life so that we can deal with situations more wisely and patiently. Until then, I guess we'll just have to grow up and learn to control our emotions and our tongues. That's the pause button we need to facilitate in our lives to bring peace to every situation.,

EDAN THE TROOPER

Can a three year old be a heroine? I think so. A hero or heroine is usually someone you admire for the courageous conduct they display during a stressful situation.
When Gramps and I visited Edan and her mom and dad a couple of months ago in their home we offered to stay with her overnight while our daughter and son-in-law went on a delayed anniversary/birthday trip to Sonoma, Ca. where they were married five years ago. The evening went fine with little fanfare at the bedtime hour. Edan insisted that PopPop (her name for Gramps) read to her the many stories she loves to read at bed time. Of course he obliged. Then he was instructed to lie down on the floor next to her bed while she closed her eyes. He did. She immediately fell asleep. The rest of the night was uneventful and she slept until eight o'clock the next morning. The next day when her parents called to check on the three of us, they wanted to talk to Edan. She displayed a slight air of annoyance when PopPop handed her the telephone. She curtly said, "Hello. I'm cooperating. Bye,"then handed the phone back to PopPop. It had been misting all morning, confirming the rainy weather forecast for the day. At noon the sun was shining, which signalled to the three of us that a walk to the distant playground was in order for the afternoon. We bundled up for the cool but clear afternoon, grabbed the stroller that this sturdy three year old can still fit into, and took off for the playground which was a good half mile away. Edan was still "cooperating" and rode willingly in the stroller. We left the three umbrellas at home since the mist had stopped earlier in the day. As she always does, Edan enjoyed playing in the distant playground which is close to where her best friend lives. There was a small one year old baby girl and her mom from France there. Edan immediately struck up a friendship with the mom and the little girl who was just learning to walk. She played ball with her, dug in the sandbox and just generally enjoyed playing with her new small girlfriend. Eventually a group of other girls came with their nanny to the playground but Edan was happy playing with the baby. Suddenly a small cloud appeared in the sky and a few drops of rain fell on our heads. We all dashed under the awning to wait until the cloud dispensed. To our surprise the sky opened up and a powerful shower began. We were protected from the rain and the girls all seemed to be happy playing. After fifteen minutes or so, the French mom and the nanny decided they would dash home with their girls during a brief respite from the heavy rain. PopPop and I gathered Edan, bundled her up in extra bunting in the stroller, unrolled the stroller awning to protect her from the gently falling rain, and we started on the half mile trip back to Edan's home. As soon as we hit the main street, the skies opened and a downpour began. Rain is common in San Francisco, but flooding must be rare because within a very few minutes the streets became rivers and the low places in the streets became lakes. Our umbrellas, our protection from the rain, were back at the house so PopPop and I quickly became drenched. We kept running on the sidewalks which were ankle deep in rain water at this point in time. Edan was staying pretty dry because the awning to the stroller protected her head and upper body, but her legs were becoming wet with rain water. There were very few people out in the deluge. They had all either taken refuge in a coffee shop, a restaurant, a store or were warmly watching the storm in the comfort of their homes or apartments. Edan, PopPop and I were the only visibly unprepared people on the streets. The two or three other people out in the deluge had huge umbrellas under which they walked in their furry jackets and fur trimmed boots. Did we look like unprepared tourists or not? Yes, we did. Edan remained calm, cool and collected as we sang songs and talked about our adventure, as if the flood had been a planned event for the day. We spotted the opening to a garage that would provide plenty of protection from the deluge for Edan and me while PopPop ran back two blocks to a drug store to purchase some umbrellas. Edan and I sang to the rain, "Rain, rain, go away. Come back another day." She commented that she didn't think the rain could hear us or it wasn't listening. So we sang it louder. Sure enough, the rain started slowing down and eventually was only a drizzle just as PopPop arrived with the newly purchased umbrellas. We resumed our trip back to the house. The streets were still like rivers and the four cornered intersections looked like lakes. Owners of businesses were all out in the streets, sweeping out the storm drains, clearing them of fallen leaves, limbs and debris so that the water would drain and business would hopefully resume again. Photographers were out with their fancy cameras taking pictures of what looked like the 100 year flood. We were having a hard time finding a place to cross the street without being knee deep in raging water. We knew that we couldn't carry Edan inside the stroller into the swiftly flowing rivers which previously had been streets only thirty minutes earlier. Suddenly a young woman appeared from behind us and told us to follow her to a stroller-friendly coffee shop across the street. She backtracked up the street and crossed at a place which was only ankle deep in flowing water. We willingly followed and entered the coffee shop looking like three water soaked cats. Edan was the picture of calmness and confidence, not scared at all, not even looking like she was the least bit perturbed at the events of the ill fated past forty-five minutes. We ordered hot chocolate for Edan and hot coffee for us, also ordered huge cookies and sat at a table to wait until the waters subsided. Since Edan doesn't like chocolate, she only ate the whipped cream on the top of the hot chocolate so I added the cocoa to my coffee. She did enjoy the huge macaroon cookie, though, eating it with gusto, even though she had had a large snack with the baby at the playground. When the rain completely stopped, we gathered our only slightly used umbrellas, the stroller and Edan and walked the rest of the way home. Edan's home never looked so good to PopPop and MeMe. Edan, still the calm, cool, collected three year old didn't seem negatively affected in the least by the frightening events of the afternoon. She ran up the stairs to the house and invited us to join her in playing with her toys, which we did even though we were emotionally exhausted from surviving the 100 year flood with our three year old grand daughter. Edan is a trooper. She proved that to us. Not one whimper, not one gripe, not one shutter, not one cry, not one groan during the entire ordeal. I know some adults I wish could have such calm composure during stressful events like she did. I think Edan will always believe that rain will go away if you tell it loudly enough and with firm authority to," Go away. Come back another day, " because it began "cooperating" when we gave it those exact orders. We should have thought to do it earlier, I guess. I just didn't dream it would be "cooperating" like Edan is.

THE PATIENCE OF RYAN

I've always heard of the patience of Job. The lessons in that book are hard to digest because I knew the trials that Job went through to finally have his blessings restored. It is a great spiritual lesson, but I witnessed a better lesson from my grand nephew Ryan.
Ryan is a joy to behold, always smiling, always talking loquaciously with his eyes shining like light bulbs on a Christmas tree. He is also always moving, always playing, just like every five or six year old boy I've ever seen.
At the Thanksgiving family reunion we have every year I witnessed the epitome of patience in the actions of Ryan, one in whom I never expected to see that characteristic. I've always seen joy and love in him, but patience was a new characteristic that I observed this year.
We always take Silly Putty for the kids to play with, lots and lots of Silly Putty. This year I couldn't find the glitter Silly Putty, which the girls always request. I did, however, find the glowing Silly Putty after visiting several stores. The regular Putty gives a lot of pleasure but the glowing Putty is the favorite of the fifteen children who were there this year. Actually I even saw the seven teenagers playing with some of it.
The secret to the glowing Putty is that it must be exposed to the light from a light bulb in order to store up elements so that it will glow in the dark. Don't ask me how that works, I don't know. I just know that it does.
Ryan had remarked that his Putty wouldn't glow in the dark, and he showed me that fact by opening his jacket and putting the Putty in the darkness under his arm. That was a new take on checking it. Usually the kids went into a dark room. Sure enough, his Putty was glow-less under his shirt.
I told him that he needed to put it under the lamp so it would soak up the light. He immediately ran (like he always does) to the living room. I assumed that he would hold it up to the light bulb, like the other kids had done. About ten minutes later I observed Ryan sitting on the couch patiently waiting on the Putty to do its light storing. Only problem was, he had put it on the table under the lamp, not close to the light bulb.
We instructed him that the Putty needed to be closer to the light bulb. He immediately held it up close to the light bulb, but not close enough to get burned. We had cautioned him about that.
We went along doing our hostess and host duties, forgetting that Ryan was on an important mission.
About fifteen minutes later I happened to wander through the room where Ryan was patiently holding his Silly Putty up to the light bulb with his little arm. We had neglected to tell him that it only took a minute or so to accomplish the feat. His little arm must have been so tired, but nothing could separate him from his task. He was the picture of patience, and with a smile on his face all the time.
One lesson to be learned from Ryan and the Silly Putty is that it is not Ryan's nature to sit quietly, just like it's not our nature to wait for prayers to be answered. Ryan's quietness was one miracle. Another lesson is one that Job also learned. Getting closer to the brilliance of the True Light and not listening to men has great rewards. The other lesson is that Ryan's great patience paid off because the Silly Putty was finally glowing with vibrancy as he showed me its brilliance, again under his arm under his jacket, not in a dark room like the other kids would do.
When I think of patience I will always think of Ryan sitting patiently with his arm holding the Silly Putty up to the light bulb soaking up the light so that it would glow.
We must learn to be like Ryan, patiently waiting for our prayers to be answered, soaking up the Light of God with a smile on our faces with calm expectation.
The story of Job is enlightening, but Ryan exemplifies patience to me more explicitly.
Who would believe that Silly Putty would be a teaching tool of God's patience!
Thank you, Ryan, for the image of patience and its rewards. The dull Silly Putties of life that have lost their brilliant glow can always be restored with faith and patience, especially when we wait with a smile on our faces and expectation in our hearts like Ryan did. Then we will not hide the Light of the answered prayer under a bushel, or under a jacket, but it will be visible for all to see the goodness of God.

GRAMPS BARYSHNIKOV

Our weekly Sunday dollar move date gave way to our annual Arkansas fall foliage tour yesterday. We always have our itinerary all worked out so that we time our lunch break at Huntsville, Arkansas so we can eat at Granny's Kitchen, a wonderul country cooking style restaurant. It's a piece of down-home Arkansas which I cannot adequately describe you have to eat there to appreciate the ambiance and the food. Everyone in town eats at Granny's after church on Sunday and we always get there right after noon so we can enjoy the friendly gathering of kissing cousins, aunts, uncles, mommas, pops, old and young at Granny's.

I always order the fried chicken special which consists of half a chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, a veggie and a softball size hot roll. Gramps always gets the meatloaf special which is equally as large and delicious.

We decided to get an extra fried chicken meal to take home and eat later in the week because the chicken is so delicious and so reasonably priced at $5.50. I also asked for a carryout box for the rest of my chicken which consisted of an uneaten leg, a breast and a thigh. I had eaten the wing and the potatoes and veggies, saving room for the apple dumpling with ice cream that we later shared, which was divine.

After we paid the bill we left, with Gramps carrying in one of his hands the boxed extra meal which was neatly placed in a large plastic sack. On the palm of his other hand he carried my carryout box with the remains of my chicken dinner order firmly balanced. We leisurely walked out the door. I spotted some old metal lawn chairs identical to some we have, but their chairs had beautifully painted flowers on the backs. Gramps was walking ahead of me out the door and down the porch to the car.

Now, since Gramps is the family artist I casually mentioned to him that maybe he could paint flowers on the backs of our metal chairs like the ones on the porch at Granny's Kitchen, so I asked him to look at them. Gramps immediately turned around to take a quick look at the beautifully painted chairs, all six feet two inches of him still gingering carrying a chicken dinner in each hand.

I alsways knew that Gramps was a good dancer but he proved to me he must have been a ballet dancer in another life because what happened next was phenomenal. There was a step down from the porch which Gramps did not notice, and suddenly he did a perfectly graceful ballet pirouette, packaged fried chicken in each hand. One leg went into the air, the other foot stayed on the porch, he twisted and turned in several complete circles, and landed flat on his back on the fender of a car parked in front of Granny's Kitchen. With an equal amount of grace he lifted himself up from the customer's car, both hands still safely clutching the precious fried chicken.

I've never seen him move so fast. He jumped up, looked to see if anyone else was around, then assured me that he was okay after I ran to him and helped him steady himself on his two feet.

As is my usual habit, I started laughing. I couldn't help it. He had just performed the most graceful ballet steps, balancing the boxes of fried chicken like boxes of precious jewels. I finally stopped laughing but began again when Gramps said he was just thandful that the owner of the car had not activated the car alarm or he would have reallly called attention to himself sprawled out on the front of the car clutching a sack in one hand and a to-go box in the other with the car alarm honking loudly. Then I doubled over in laughter again.

If anyone was looking out the many windows of Granny's Kitchen and saw the activity of the guy accidentally acting like a Russian ballet performer trying to avoid losing the boxed meals in the dirt of the parking lot and landing on the fender of a car I'm sure they are telling the story to all their kissing cousins in Huntsville.

If Gramps hadn't been an athlete and very physically fit he could have broken something, but he came out of his peformance fit as a fiddle.

I used to think we might take line dancing lessons, but I think we'll check into ballet lessons . Gramps is a natural at ballet.

Fortunately Gramps was okay, just a little blood from a small place on his arm. The car was fine. Gramps' ego was not damaged because he has always liked to make me laugh, which he regularly does. This time his comedy act was completely unrehearsed and unplanned, but he outdid himself by bringing hysterical laughter to me unexpectedly. I made sure he was okay before I started laughing. I couldn't help it. It's in my genes. My dad was the same way, he always laughed when some one fell down. Both of my sisters do the same thing. I once laughed uncontrollably when our oldest sister slipped on the top stair at my house and bounced on her behind all the way to the landing. I couldn't even help her. I had to go in my bedroom, close the door and fall on the bed laughing. I must talk to a psychologist about this family trait. Gramps said in this instance it was good for the digestion since he laughed, too.

Without any ballet training Gramps would make Baryshnikov jealous.
Eat your heart out, Baryshnikov. Gramps is a natural.

PROUD TO BE OKIES FROM OKAY

The Lady Mustangs volleyball team from Okay, Oklahoma, made this MeMe and Gramps proud last week when they showed, "championship caliber class" at their game with Metro Christian. Our grand daughter Lindsey Allen plays for the Lady Mustangs. They mourned with the girls on the opposing team by wearing the number 7 on their arms in honor of Laura Lester who was killed along with her parents and a sister in an airplane accident a week before the game. They also presented the opposing team a bouquet of flowers and a sympathy card to let them know that they appreciated that they took "time out of their healing" as quoted by Coach Clark, to play the Okay Lady Mustangs in their scheduled game. Coach Clark of the Lady Mustangs said that they might be competitors on the court but we are all humans and the girls all needed to come together at that time, showing love and sympathy for the girls on the Metro Christian team because of the loss of their teammate and friend.Lindsey has always showed love and compassion for people. We are proud of her and her teammates for showering the entire team and coaching staff of Metro Christian with the sympathetic gestures that they did. I'm sure it was a shock to that team to be honored in such a way, honoring Laura Lester's prior contribution to her team on the event of her death.Metro Christian's school is sixty miles from Okay, but I know they will always remember the heartfelt compassion that the Okay, Oklahoma, Lady Mustang volleyball team showed to them at the time of their mourning. I am so proud of Lindsey and her team. They made it known that competition took a back seat to love and compassion when they proved themselves to the community as girls with sterling character. Now that's what I call true class.Lindsey, the entire team of Lady Mustangs and Coach Clark proved that the attitudes of true athletes is in the respectful and caring way they treat their opponents.We are so proud of them for showing maturity beyond their years and character that their parents and grandparents will crow about for years.
Congratulations, Lady Mustangs, you proved yourselves to be real ladies.

DR. PEPPER BAPTISM

Class, manners, courage, politeness and gentlemanliness are just bred into some people. Yes, family training is involved in the equation also. Kids act and react the way their parents and grandparents act and react. That's called experience, learning from good and bad examples set for them.
There's another more contemporary term related to a teenager who has class, manners, courage, politeness and gentlemanliness. It's called COOLNESS.
Our grandson Jess is what everyone calls cool. It's universally known what that words signifies. Even two year old kids know that descriptive term and use it in their limited vocabularies. Jesse proved his total coolness in an experience he had with his other grandparents, Freda and Bob.
What was reported to me very energetically by the grandparents was a story that they were excited to share with anyone and everyone who would listen, and rightfully so. Freda is the one who labeled Jesse's actions as really cool ,with good manners, she said. Actually both grandparents were kind of awe-struck at Jesse's calm, cool reaction to an unfortunate accident.
It seems that Freda had taken Jesse to an appointment with the dermatologist, an adventure in itself, which involved being misinformed of the location of the doctor's office, waiting an hour a the wrong office, then waiting another hour at the appropriate office. Then after being handed a prescription they made their way to the pharmacy, only to be informed there that they had the wrong colored slip, that they needed a pink one. Back they went to get the right colored slip. Needless to say, Freda and Jesse were both beginning to experience some displeasure at the way the day was beginning. However, it eventually worked out and they called Grandpa Bob to meet them for breakfast because 17 year old Jesse was starving.
They met at restaurant and ordered their drinks, coffee for Freda since Bob had arrived earlier and already had his coffee. Ice water was also ordered for the senior citizens and Dr. Pepper for the teenager. Soon after, the waitress brought the drinks to the table, a huge glass of Dr. Pepper, one steaming cup of coffee and two glasses of ice water.
Immediately the baptism began as the entire contents of the tray must have slid off because all of the beverages from the tray hit Jesse in the chest, ending up in his lap. There he sat, soaked in 28 ounces of Dr. Pepper, the contents of two full glasses of ice water and one cup of hot coffee.
Now, most teenagers become embarrassed at being the center of a spectacle, but not Jessee. His other grandparents proudly related to us that he sat there drenched in the liquids and the only remark he calmly made was, "Ohhhh, that's cold."
There was no outburst of anger, no look of disgust for the waitress and no foul mouthed language.
He became more the center of attention as everyone began to soak up the lake of beverages on him and two inches on the floor around him, but he still remained calm and cool, the Rock of Gibraltar. He did comment that his feet were swimming in the inch of liquid inside of his shoes. From the chest down, not an inch of his body, his shirt, his pants, his shoes and socks were dry, yet Jesse ate his breakfast in gentle conversation with his grand parents.
Grandpa Bob did comment that he suggested that the cute waitress put her arm around Jesse to keep him warm after the patient young man made his first gentle complaint of, "I'm cold.," but Jesse refused her offer.
The waitress paid for Jesse's breakfast, and rightfully so. She should have, and he was grateful for that. He went home to shower and change clothes before going back to school.
The waitress confessed that this was the first time she had spilled anything on anyone in all her 13 years of being a waitress. I know that she is still telling the story about the handsome, nice, cool, calm and collected teenage boy whom she baptized with the entire contents of a beverage tray. She will tell the story for years to come about how lucky she was that the object of the accident was a young, handsome gentleman.
When I asked him if I would write a story about his experience he told me yes, but he added that the steaming hot coffee also burned his arm. That was the first negative, factual comment from his mouth about the situation .
Anyone else would have been mad and incensed. Not Jesse. He's COOL. You know what that means, it means he's got superior character that makes his loving parents and grandparents proud.
Keep it up, Jesse. your coolness continues to shine forth.

T SHIRT PHILOSOPHY

Grandson Nathan didn't get to visit us this summer when Jarrett and Stephen came. He played in the Volleyball National Junior Olympics in Atlanta, Georgia at the time they were with us. We certainly thought about him a lot, especially when we were shooting fireworks on the 4th of July along with their cousins Jesse and Lindsey.
We especially thought about Nathan when we saw a T shirt that said LIFE IS CRAP, so we bought him one. Sometimes negative comments from people make us think that they have that philosophy about life. Nathan has to work at being positive, but being negative is not an unusual attitude for any teenager to have.
However, on the T shirt were also pictures of an ice cream sundae on the left side of the shirt and a carrot on the right side. It said, "I wanted this," underneath the ice cream sundae and said, "I got this," underneath the carrot. Then the words LIFE IS CRAP.
Actually, the T shirt is a very positive thing. We all know that often fertilizer can come from excrement (often called crap) of certain animals. Also, fertilizer is what makes plants grow into healthy vegetables with great nutrients.
Ice cream is not a good thing for health, even though Gramps loves it. It actually makes him grow in the middle, where he doesn't want to grow. No one gets big in the middle by eating carrots. When Gramps is on a health kick the first thing he stops eating is ice cream. BUT carrots, now, carrots have wonderful vitamins in them. My parents always told me to eat my carrots and I would have healthy eyes, able to see in the dark. I can see great in the dark so maybe they were right. Anyway, the T shirt has turned out to be a very positive philosophy for Nathan to display to people.
Crap used as fertilizer makes carrots grow into healthy, beneficial vegetables which improve eyesight, heart health and mental sharpness. Ice cream doesn't have those benefits.
So I guess Nathan's T shirt is a positive lesson, that being that life's good fertilizer grows crops of healthy plants which will benefit us in the future.
I hope everyone who reads Nathan's T shirt will understand the deep meaning behind his T shirt philosophy. Maybe he'll have to explain it to some people, that he's a walking advertisement for eating carrots and getting healthy.
Also I hope that he knows that there are many times when life seems crappy but that you must use those times for good learning experiences that become like nutritious carrots in your life, making you stronger and more mature.
He's a smart kid. He'll figure it out.

HOOTER HILARITY

On the teenage grandchildren's visit this year we took an unusual excursion. Don't fall out of your chair when you read where we went. We went to Hooters for lunch one day. Jay wanted a Hooter's T shirt to wear on his trip to Cozumel. Lucy didn't want to go at all, thought Hooters had naked ladies and she didn't want to be embarrassed.. Gramps told her Hooters in the neighboring city is just like Applebee's but the girls have on shorts and T shirts. She agreed to go.
Sure enough, It was a nice place with good food and the girls were modestly dressed. Their medium sized busts were not as large as the teenagers had all imagined. I guess the teenagers had imagined that the girls would fall over forward with their larger than life bosoms.
After we walked into the restaurant Lucy remarked that the shorts the girls wear are just like the shorts she plays volleyball in, and that her friend Sue has a bigger bust than the girls at Hooters. The trip was a lesson to them on how wrong judgments can emanate from the imagination.
After we sat there a while having fun, laughing and talking, Gramps looked at some of the waitresses and said, "I'll bet none of them are real, anyway." To which Jackson, the oldest grandson with us, said, "I wasn't thinking anything about that, Grandpa. I was just thinking how beautiful the female body is." Sam, the youngest teenage grandson, said, "I wasn't looking at the girls, I was contemplating the theory of quantum physics." Lucy, our oldest granddaughter, said, "I was contemplating the end of the world." Jay, always the clown, said, "I was thinking exactly what Granpa was thinking." We all roared.
It has always been like that for the entire time our grandkids visit, a laugh a minute.
Everyone thinks we are nutty for taking them to Hooter's, but we don't want to make anything seem forbidden to them when, in reality, it is nothing that they won't see at the neighborhood pool or at a volleyball game. The girls at Hooter's seemed to all of us like the girl next door, sweet and kind, and really good waitresses.
Gramps took the kids to Chaps the next day, a local hot dog place, which is a tradition for them to go to at least once on their visits. When they got back they said the girl who fixed their hot dogs was dressed more revealing than the girls at Hooters.
Go figure!
A valuable lesson learned!

DISAPPEARING GRAMPS

The dollar movie always provides great entertainment for us, sometimes from the movies and sometimes from our experiences at the movies. See, we always go to a movie that is showing at noon on Sunday after we have our amazing lunch at Sam’s Discount for $1.67 for a hotdog and unlimited pops. That makes our outing that day cost a whopping six bucks. Our last experience at the movie theater was silly, but gave us a big laugh. We were late getting to the theater because we left home late. It was dark when we walked into the theater that was showing our choice of movie for the day. We were the only ones who were interested in the particular showing that day, I guess, because we had the room to ourselves. In the darkness we felt our way down the aisle touching every end seat on our way in an effort to keep our bearings. As we came to the middle of the aisles and what seemed like the perfect row of seats I asked Gramps if that seemed to be the right distance from the screen. He said it was perfect, so I entered the row of seats and felt each seat until I figured we would be in the center of the screen. I sat down in one of the theater’s newly acquired plush secondhand seats, ready to enjoy the romantic movie (commonly called a chick flick) with my hubby. It was still unusually dark in the room but I was glad we were able to find our way down the aisle, stumbling into the center and into the right seats. The coming attractions began immediately. I commented to Gramps that I wanted to see a certain upcoming movie because it looked like it would be entertaining. Gramps remarked that he would like to see it, also, but when he said it I wondered if he had acquired a bad sore throat on the way into the theater because he commented in a very far away, weak sounding voice. It took me a minute to figure out that Gramps had entered an aisle a couple of rows behind me rather than the aisle I was seated in. He was relaxing in a seat in a different aisle, ready for the feature to begin. There we were, the only couple in the movie theater sitting several rows apart, albeit but in the perfect center of our respective aisles. Anyone entering the room at the time would have thought were mad at each other, taking seats in different rows in the theater with every other seat in the huge room empty. Now, I know that Gramps still has great eyesight because he has two new lenses in his eyes after having cataract surgery. However, I’m wondering about his hearing. The next day when I fixed dinner I put our plates on trays because we wanted to watch TV while we ate. I got the trays beautifully prepared and called Gramps and told him to come get his tray. He didn’t answer immediately so I got closer and yelled out, “Come get your tray. Dinner is ready.” Gramps immediately yelled back, “Artificial intelligence.” Where in the world did that come from? He still can’t remember what he thought I said. I do think we need to have his hearing checked. Or yet, maybe he’s trying to get a message across to me. “Artificial intelligence“? Humm, I better think a while longer on that remark.

HEARTS BECOME ANGELS

Mercedes is a beautiful name, to me always signifying elegance and beauty. When a friend announced to me that her great granddaughter’s name is Mercedes, I was very impressed. I knew that the little girl has a name standing for elegance and beauty. When I finally met Mercedes I knew that her name was perfect, because I saw a little girl who is beautiful, smart and elegant.
At the time I did not know that Mercedes is artistic, also. I had heard that her teachers have said that she is gifted, but I had never seen first hand evidence of that myself until recently.
My friend Jane, who is Mercedes’ great grandmother, told me that the five year old girl had one day asked for some readings from the Bible. Jane obliged her and when she opened her Bible a message called Dear Ones was visible, so Jane read it to her. The message was signed, “Love, God.” Mercedes was very impressed by the signature so she asked Jane if she could draw a heart below the part that read, “Love, God.” Jane told her that yes, of course she could add her personal touch to God’s closing signature on the message.
Mercedes drew a beautiful heart but didn’t stop there. She added her personal artistic touch by using the heart as the body of an angel as she added a head, two wings and two legs with feet to make a wonderful picture of an angel. That was a creative and unique idea, to make an angel out of the picture of God’s heart of love. I think that Mercedes knows God a lot better than a lot of adults. Jesus said a little child shall lead them. In this instance Mercedes’ artistic drawing has led me to see God’s love and his angels in every heart shaped image that I see.
I’m eager to see what Mercedes’ next artistic stroke of genius will be. She will amaze us all, I know.

NATHANIEL THE GIVER

There are nice gifts, good gifts, great gifts and then there are memorable gifts. Our grandson Nathan gave me a memorable gift several years ago and I keep it by my bed so I can see it and remember him and the occasion.
We had taken five of our grandchildren to Incredible Pizza in Tulsa and they, of course, collected lots of tickets from the game machines with plans to get something really big and valuable with their tickets. Sometimes they pool their tickets and get a big thing they can all play with. Other times they each keep their own tickets and spend time picking out various prizes to play with.
When Nathan was choosing his prizes he chose a little funny doll with a shirt that had a red heart in the middle of the front and a message that said, “I have Jesus in my heart.” He immediately came to me and told me that he got the prize for me. I was so touched that he had thought about me, but I was more deeply touched by the idea that he knew that Jesus is important to my life and knew that I would treasure it.
After I brought the doll home, I put it right next to my bed and have only removed it to dust it off. Every day I look at the doll at least three or four times and think about Nathan and his generosity. I also think about the fact that Jesus is truly in my heart and He is precious to me just like Nathan is in my heart and is precious to me.
I will never give that doll away and I will never throw it away. In fact, I think I’ll leave instructions that it is somehow supposed to go to heaven with me when I am through with this earthly body. I want Jesus to see the doll and know what a generous, kind young man Nathan is.
Well, I guess Jesus already know that; doesn’t he?
Thank you again, Nathan, for a gift that keeps on giving comfort and love to your Grandma.

AN AFTERNOON WITH Tory

The doorbell rang and there she was, Tory, my eight year old friend, with a wonderful gift for me. In her hand she held a beautiful bracelet she had made out of beads. The middle of the bracelet was graced with a butterfly bead and on either side were many shiny turquoise and white beads. The bracelet easily slipped onto my wrist and I wore it with pride the rest of the day, even though I came by the wonderful gift second handed since she had originally taken it to another neighbor who wasn’t home, so she generously decided to bring it to me. I was pleased that she thought so highly of me to consider sharing her labors with me.
Tory is a wonderful girl, very giving and cheerful. We have found common interests arts and crafts and gardening.
An hour was spent with Tory helping me prune some plants and pull dead, spindly growths from other wintering ones. She is such a willing worker. When we are out of town I know I can trust her to feed the stray cat who hangs around our house wanting food but absolutely no physical contact from humans. Tory is always trustworthy.
We talked about our lives as we worked together. She became very interested in my conversation when I told her about some of my writings, which I showed her on my computer.
Our next adventure on that particular day included doing some crafts. We have a mutual interest in creativity and, as Tory labeled herself, she’s very “artable“.
We decided to use leaves, water colors and markers to create a wreath to hang on the door. I save pieces of cardboard for just such occasions, so I dug out a couple of pieces of white cardboard. Tory immediately started in on the feat. I handed her a small glass plate and she instinctively knew to use it to trace a circle to begin the wreath. Being very self sufficient, she began the task of creating a wreath. Her only dilemma was whether to “tie-dye” the colors or to “straight line” the colors with a small craft paint brush. She decided to use both, cutting an oblong piece of cardboard and “straight lining” the letters GOD BLESS on it. You see, we have another common interest, that being God. I was able to tell her that many years ago God first identified himself to men saying, “I AM.” She was a little confused but I hope I cleared it up for her by telling her the story is found in the book of Genesis in the Bible when God told some men, “I AM everything to you.” She quickly agreed.
As we progressed on our creative process, Tory cut leaves in smaller pieces and glued them around the outside of the wreath, having successfully glued the small oblong piece with “God Bless” in the center of the wreath. Tory began to “tie dye” some colors around the God Bless, mixing some colors very effectively.
Suddenly Tory astounded me with a statement. She exclaimed, “That color is the color for Texas.” That piqued my interest since I was born and bred in Texas and I wasn’t familiar with Texas having its own color. It became very clear to me what she meant when I looked at the color that emerged when she combined dark yellow and red water colors. It became burnt orange, the color universally identified as one of the colors of the Longhorns of the University of Texas. She confirmed to me that it certainly is a Longhorns color.
A mystery was solved when I asked Tory, “How in the world does a little eight year old born and bred Okie girl know the colors of the Texas Longhorns?” Her reply was that she had a friend. a boy who was from Texas, and he had moved back after a short time in Oklahoma. She said while he was at her school he wore a Texas Longhorn T shirt one day. It seems the principal, an Oklahoma fan, said he would give something from a current school awards program to the boy to take off the offending burnt orange Texas Longhorn T shirt and only wear the underlying white T shirt. The boy was smart and he agreed to accept the bribe.
However, as Tory related to me, the boy quickly put the Texas Longhorns shirt back on over his white T shirt the minute he left the school yard.
I’ve said many times, you can never take Texas out of a Texan.
Tory overheard me telling someone about her knowledge relating to the team colors of the Longhorns and she suggested that I write a story about it. I told her I would, so I’m keeping my promise. I needed some interesting new subject matter, anyway.
It’s amazing what you can learn from an eight year old. I learned that I’m “artable” and that I can “tie dye” water colors and “straight line” water colors and that eight year old girls remember lots of things they learn from eight year old boys, even college school colors. It’s apparent he was a memorable little boy.
I wish I had known all of the things Tory knows when I was eight years old. It’s never too late to learn amazing things from children, especially ones who are smart as well as “artable“.

EXERIENCE IS THE BEST TEACHER

Sometimes our own experiences are the best teacher and sometimes someone else’s experiences are good teachers.
When I was in the fifth grade Philip Smith was the class clown. He was clever, cute and could cuss like a sailor. That made him kind of appealing to the girls because that was in the ‘40s and nobody cussed except our dads, so a young boy who had the courage to cuss kind of intrigued us. One day Philip Smith said a cuss word in class loud enough for Ms. Cox, the teacher, to hear. She immediately expelled him from class and sent him to the principal’s office. He eventually came back into class with a smile on his face. We expected him to be holding his hind parts in pain, but he wasn’t. His eyes were twinkling and he had a big smile on his face . We quizzed him on the reason for the smile and he said that the principal had told him something remarkable. He reported to us that the principal had said, “If there’s anybody in this school who gets to cuss it’s me.” That did the trick. Philip never cussed again in earshot of the teacher.
Philip wrote a clever theme one day about the old saying , “Experience is the best teacher.” He ended it with the statement that everybody thought that experience is the best teacher, but he thought that Mrs. Cox was a lot better teacher than experience.
As you can see, Philip had a way with people. I’ve often wondered what happened to him. He’s probably an actor or a comic or maybe a CEO of some big company because he could BS the best of them.
I tell you about Philip now because Gramps and I had an experience on a trip this weekend that caused me to recall Philip and his theme about experience being the best teacher.
Gramps and I were at a hotel/casino having an inexpensive weekend away from home. I don’t gamble and Gramps only plays a few hands of black jack on occasion. He used to have a problem with gambling but he has learned how to listen to that “still small voice” in the midst of his gut and quit before he loses a lot of money. He didn’t practice that wise behavior for the first 50 years of our marriage but he does now.
We were in the elevator at the hotel/casino going from the fifth floor to the first floor with the intention of eating at one of the great restaurants close to the lobby. There were other occupants of the elevator, a young couple who looked to be in their early twenties and a man who looked to be about forty years old.
Gramps asked the young couple if they were having a good time. The handsome young man remarked that he would have had a good time, except that he had lost about $700 gambling. I gasped and said that that would make a good house payment. The young man’s beautiful wife joined the conversation as she affirmed my statement by remarking, “That’s what I told him.”
The young man sadly said, “Or it would make a truck payment and pay the rent.”
This is where experience kicks into the conversation. I said to the good looking couple, “He,” meaning Gramps, “used to have a problem with gambling but he’s learned when to stop shelling out his hard earned money when he’s gambling now.”
The young man said inquisitively to Gramps, “How long did it take you to learn?”
Gramps and I said in chorus, “About fifty years.”
The young man and woman groaned loudly.
Gramps began to tell them about how he learned to stop gambling before he became a loser every time.
The other occupant of the elevator was listening to the conversation without saying a word.
When the elevator door opened, the young man darted out of the elevator onto the floor of the casino with his beautiful wife trailing along behind. However, the other man paused in front of the elevator to hear Gramps tell him how he has learned to stop shelling out money to the gambling demon when he gets a few bucks behind because that’s a good indication that he is not going to win anymore. Then he told the man that on the rare occasion that he gambles, when he gets pretty far ahead of the money he started with, then he quits and pockets the winnings, takes the winnings to me, then plays with his original investment unless he begins to get a few bucks behind, then he quits for the day.
The man listened intently. I could tell he was not only listening to Gramps’ experience but he was processing the information with keen interest. He told Gramps, “Thanks,” as he walked away.
Like Philip Smith said, sometimes experience is the best teacher. Even someone else’s experiences can be a good teacher. That is often called a testimony. We always learn from someone else’s testimony. They give us hope that we can conquer a problem in our lives because someone else has done it.
As we walked away, I said to Gramps, “Well, I guess they think you’re a real slow learner since it took you fifty years to learn that lesson.”
Gramps said, “No, they think I’m a retarded learner for it to have taken fifty years to learn that.”
I know that couple will think about Gramps and maybe they will decide that fifty years is too long to wait, and maybe the young man will stop gambling altogether.
I do believe that the other man will heed the wise words that Gramps told him and he will wisely monitor his gambling, like Gramps does, before he becomes a big loser. Then when he begins winning, I think that he will take the sizeable winnings to his wife for safe keeping. It’s certainly worked for us.
Maybe Gramps’ experience will be a good teacher for those three people since Philip Smith’s teacher Mrs. Cox isn‘t here to teach that valuable lesson. The experience of Gramps can certainly be the best teacher in this instance.

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CHOICES:BLUEBERRY CREPES OR HEARTY MEATLOAF

Sometimes we are flabbergasted at the choices some people make. Sometimes their choices turn out to be beneficial and sometimes they turn out not to be beneficial. On a recent trip with Bin and Kit we saw the results of a quickly made choice that Bin made.
We were celebrating the 65th wedding anniversary of Rob and Annie, and they graciously invited us to have lunch at a great restaurant. There were lots of college students there, plus many other people of varying ages. All seemed to be enjoying their gourmet meals.
When we sat down we all gazed around at the meals being served to people at tables in close proximity to ours. Bin’s eyes fixated on a plate of blueberry crepes. He decided right then and there that that would be his choice of a meal. After all, it was listed on the entrée menu, not solely on the dessert list.
Gramps hurriedly decided to order the meatloaf plate, which I wondered about since this was known as an upper scale restaurant. Kit made the same choice and questioned Bin about his choice of the crepes. He was immoveable. He wanted the crepes.
The rest of us chose various things. Mine was goat cheese and shrimp quesadillas, Rob’s was eggs Benedict with salmon. Annie chose some fancy cheese filled crepes along with chicken, artichoke and mushroom soup. Kit also ordered the soup and some jalapeno, pecan and artichoke stuffing as side dishes to her meatloaf.
That should give you an idea of what a plethora of interesting things the menu contained. Bin persisted in his order of blueberry crepes. When the waitress brought the plates, Gramps and Kit’s plates had servings that left us with bug-eyed. The meatloaf looked like a half pound slice of meat on each plate, the biggest serving I’ve ever seen. My plate was completely covered with the quesadillas. Annie’s plate was overflowing with her order, as was Rob’s. Bin’s plate had three small blitzes (crepes) in the middle of the huge plate. It was topped with sweet blueberry sauce.
Bin’s face fell into a distinctive look, much like that of a sad, sad basset hound. His crepes were delicious, he said, but he eventually finished his meal before the rest of us had finished a fourth of our hearty meals.
I tried really hard not to look at Bin, knowing that if I continued to see his sad look that I would possibly get choked on my food from laughing. You know me, I couldn’t resist; and, yes, I almost got choked.
When we all ordered desserts Bin refrained from ordering because he had already gone over his daily allotment of sugar since he’s diabetic.
As we all inhaled our wonderful desserts, Bin continued with his basset hound demeanor, sad that he had already had his meal which was customarily considered as a dessert while the rest of us were consuming meat hearty meals. We felt sympathy for Bin, but we also enjoyed laughing with him about his choice. Yes, he was laughing along with us.
The whole occasion reminded me of the Apostle Paul in the Bible. He said that there were some people who preferred teachings that were like milk instead of meat. He said that he could only serve some people spiritual milk because that is all they can eat and digest. He also said that there were people in Corinth to whom he could feed meat because they had well formed spiritual digestive systems that could handle truths that were meaty. They were able to chew them up completely, swallow them and safely digest them. He said that the Holy Spirit would make the truths part of their being.
Bin liked his blueberry crepes because they were delicious, but he longingly looked at the hearty meat loaf that Kit and Gramps had on their plates, probably cognizant of the fact that the meat would stay in their systems a long time but he might be hungry again in a few hours.
Both meals were delicious and nutritious, the crepes and the meatloaf. The meatloaf was full of iron and bulk, though, and had staying power.
Little did Bin know when he made the choice between the crepes and the meatloaf that he would give us lots of laughs and also a valuable visual lesson on what Paul was saying to the Corinthians. He was saying to the Corinthians, “Order the meatloaf next time.”
Gramps couldn’t resist continuing on with the ribbing. After we came home he cut a recipe out of the paper for blueberry crepes and sent it to Bin. Kit later reported to us that Bin laughed and laughed when he opened the letter containing the recipe.
I still laugh every time I visualize Bin’s basset hound look when he visually compared his plate of blueberry crepes with the two other plates laden with man sized slices of meatloaf.
I’m certainly not comparing Bin to the Corinthian milk drinkers because Bin is certainly a deeply religious man. I’m just using his experience as an example of the importance of choices in our lives.
What is appealing to the eyes is not always the right choice. Just ask Adam and Eve. They made the wrong choice and look where all of us are in the earth, every day having to choose between blueberry crepes and hearty meatloaf.
Choices do make a difference.