DAH-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-duh-duh-duh
Sweet Memories
Mrs. Smith
My mom believed her children needed piano lessons. I’m not sure why other than maybe to make us more refined or to give us a little culture. At any rate, my sister took them and mom signed me up for them from the same teacher. I had an ace in the hole though. My brother taught me the scales before my very first lesson. That ace turned out to work against me.
Choose to Believe
* This is a letter I gave to each of my nieces and nephew in 2007.
Let me start off by saying I am not a preacher. You have enough preachers in your life, I am not one of them. This is simply my testimony and my witness. This year we have been studying the New Testament in Sunday School. The New Testament is full of letters and epistles from Paul and other leaders of the church to the early saints. During a Sunday School class I challenged the class members to write their own epistle. “Who would you write to?” I asked. “What would you write?”
I decided to write my epistle to you. Yes, I like using the word epistle instead of letter, it makes me feel smarter. Keep in mind, the words and thoughts I share, I share with love.
– Aunt C.
The last testimony
She stood up slowly and started to speak. Her voice was as weak as her body. Fear probably bubbled close to the surface but she fought it with hope. Surely, she was going to get better. Her time could not be running out.
Thank you, mom
Back when I was a teenager, in a decade known as ‘the Eighties,’ I spent a lot of time at the movie theater. My friends alternated between the theater one weekend and the recreation center the next. It was a great system when I had the disposable money of my parents to burn. I remember when Dirty Dancing came out. As always happens, we were bombarded by advertisements leading us to believe this would be the must-see movie of our generation. I’ve always been easily swayed by such hype and I wanted to see it with my friends.
Stuff nightmares are made of
JAWS has been playing on AMC. What the heck? It’s been a while since I’ve watched it so I decided to watch it again.
Do me a favor, don’t call it work, call it history
I’ve always been interested in family history. Sort of. More on my terms than any useful, practical terms of actually doing the work. Maybe that’s it. I liked hearing the stories but I never wanted to do the work to find the stories out.
Hmm. I think that’s called laziness.
Huh.
They Stood in Silent Prayer
You know how sometimes, just sometimes, the difference between love and hate comes down to intimacy? Once you know something on a personal level either elevates or lowers your opinion of that thing. The key is having a story with it – for good or bad.
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Way to go, Dad!
In my opinion, we are born with a desire to trust our parents. Our love for our parents is innate. It comes naturally. It’s pretty obvious that not all parents continue to earn trust and love from their children. Some of us, are blessed to be born to good parents. Not perfect people because perfection in people does not exist. But we are fortunate to be born to parents who try. That’s all we really need I think. And in their efforts, they do a pretty good job. We are the lucky ones – if luck has anything to do with it (and I doubt it does).
He said He was the Son of God because He was the Son of God
My mom loved a good quote. In fact, a kitchen wall is decorated with quotes and sayings she had heard and liked. Some humorous. Some profound. A few written by her children (my parents were always our biggest fans). All framed and still on display.
ck's days 