When I was a young child, my parents were not Christians. They did not become so, until my mother was in her late 30s and my dad was about 40. Both were brought up in Christian homes, and adhered pretty much to the moral standards they had been taught. They attended church irregularly, but they let us attend whatever church we chose. When I was about five years old I began going to the Baptist Church, and my older sister attended the Assembly of God Church for a time. Perhaps that’s where our friends were; from this distance I’m not sure.
At the church I attended, they had a class for young children, called “The Sunbeam Band.” The first scripture verse I learned there was John 3:16, “For God so loved the world…” Next I learned the 23rd Psalm, “The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want…” And I learned a song that we sang frequently. “Jesus loves the little children, All the children of the world, Red and yellow, black and white, They are precious in his sight, Jesus loves the little children of the world.”
I did not become a Christian then, at that young age; but I thought, with wonder, “He loves me!”
Friday, July 31, 2009
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Poems
I mentioned the poem, "The House by the Side of the Road," by Sam Walter Foss, in my blog about my Dad. When I did the search, I first did so by a line from the poem, and I found several sites. After I found that, and searched by the title, I got several more sites. If you searched by the poet's name, perhaps you would find some of the same, and possibly more. There are a number of sites about him and his poems. There is one site that lists many of his poems, which I haven't taken the time to check out yet, but I will. [Drat that curiosity factor.]
Perhaps my liking for poetry comes from the memorization we had to do, I don't know. Another favorite poem, maybe the most favorite of all is: "Abou Ben Adhem" by James Leigh Hunt. I'm bad about remembering the names of authors that go with what work, so I had to look up the poet on this one.
I also like Walt Whitman's poems, my favorite there being: "Oh Captain! My Captain!" When I learned that as a child, I had no idea who it was really about. I didn't learn that until much later. And who can forget "The Raven," by Poe, if you've read it. Also remember "Annabelle Lee," but so sad. I didn't have to check the writers of these last ones, but others of their poems, I probably would.
Perhaps my liking for poetry comes from the memorization we had to do, I don't know. Another favorite poem, maybe the most favorite of all is: "Abou Ben Adhem" by James Leigh Hunt. I'm bad about remembering the names of authors that go with what work, so I had to look up the poet on this one.
I also like Walt Whitman's poems, my favorite there being: "Oh Captain! My Captain!" When I learned that as a child, I had no idea who it was really about. I didn't learn that until much later. And who can forget "The Raven," by Poe, if you've read it. Also remember "Annabelle Lee," but so sad. I didn't have to check the writers of these last ones, but others of their poems, I probably would.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
My Dad
When I was in school as a child, we had to memorize poems. One that has always stuck in my mind was, "The House by the Side of the Road," by Sam Walter Foss. I always thought of it, as 'The man who lived in a house by the side of the road,' and that's what I typed in the Search engine to find the poem. The 7th and 8th lines of the 2nd and 3rd stanza are, "Let me live in a house by the side of the road, And be a friend to man." The lines in the first stanza are slightly different. The fourth stanza changes to, "Nor live in my house by the side of the road, Like a man who dwells alone." The last stanza is like the second and third stanza, except says, 'my house.'
This poem has always reminded me of my dad, because he truly was a man who lived in a house by the side of the road and was a friend to man. Remember this was the thirties. So many people had so little; jobs were scarce. As long as Dad had food in the house and someone else didn't, he shared what he had. If a stray kid had no place to stay, because he had been kicked out by his dad, he could always find a place to sleep at Albert's. If someone needed a shirt, or a pair of shoes, somehow Dad found the wherewithal to provide them. When a family with children had 'no Christmas,' a box of inexpensive gifts appeared on the front porch. On Sunday, he ended up asking nearly everyone home for Sunday dinner.
Family members came and went at various times. One nephew came for a two week visit and ended up staying a year. Another much older cousin, the one that I remember the most, stayed for some time also, a niece stayed for a year so she could finish grade school [her family lived too far out of town to commute daily], and various others from time to time. This was before my time and the cousin told me about it many years later.
I once overheard my maternal grandmother say to my mother, "The trouble with Albert is, he is just too free-hearted for his own good." He was the kind of person, of whom people said, "He would give you the shirt off his back." And he did.
We didn't have a lot of money ourselves, but Dad always had a job. We also had a big family, but in spite of Dad doing what he could to help someone else, I can't see that we were actually hurt by it. We had a place to live, food to eat [though maybe not always what we would have preferred], clothes to wear, when so many struggled for so little. Like all human beings, he had his faults, but I'm proud to call him, "Dad."
This poem has always reminded me of my dad, because he truly was a man who lived in a house by the side of the road and was a friend to man. Remember this was the thirties. So many people had so little; jobs were scarce. As long as Dad had food in the house and someone else didn't, he shared what he had. If a stray kid had no place to stay, because he had been kicked out by his dad, he could always find a place to sleep at Albert's. If someone needed a shirt, or a pair of shoes, somehow Dad found the wherewithal to provide them. When a family with children had 'no Christmas,' a box of inexpensive gifts appeared on the front porch. On Sunday, he ended up asking nearly everyone home for Sunday dinner.
Family members came and went at various times. One nephew came for a two week visit and ended up staying a year. Another much older cousin, the one that I remember the most, stayed for some time also, a niece stayed for a year so she could finish grade school [her family lived too far out of town to commute daily], and various others from time to time. This was before my time and the cousin told me about it many years later.
I once overheard my maternal grandmother say to my mother, "The trouble with Albert is, he is just too free-hearted for his own good." He was the kind of person, of whom people said, "He would give you the shirt off his back." And he did.
We didn't have a lot of money ourselves, but Dad always had a job. We also had a big family, but in spite of Dad doing what he could to help someone else, I can't see that we were actually hurt by it. We had a place to live, food to eat [though maybe not always what we would have preferred], clothes to wear, when so many struggled for so little. Like all human beings, he had his faults, but I'm proud to call him, "Dad."
Footnote: The picture I've just added was taken in I believe 1938 on the Big River gravel bar where the local church held baptisms. The original picture is full length.
Love Affair
I have been an avid reader all my life, since I first learned to read at age five, and fell in love with the printed page. We did not have many books in our home, so I read what was available: magazines, newspapers and the books at school.
At the small rural school we attended, the number of books was limited. I went through them all, and when I had done so, I re-read some of them again and again. There were two books in particular that I recall: one I read 11 times, and the other 13! Many of the other books I read more than once, but I apparently didn’t keep count, though the number wasn't as great as those mentioned above.
When I began high school, the library was larger, and I started work on that. In English class, we had to read and make a book report, up to a certain number of points per year. In the first few weeks, I devoured as many books as possible, making a report on each one. One day I realized I had accumulated 80 points in short order, way over the required number. I thought, “Whoa! You have to stop reporting, or you will run out of new books for reports in later classes."
As the years went by, access to larger libraries and book stores became available. I might go in a book store looking for a specific book, and carry out an arm load of books. It was like that commercial about not being able to eat just one chip. I couldn’t go in a book store and come out with just one book. So I decided to limit my visits to book stores.
The cost of living being what it is today, and within the limits of my income, I now get most of my reading material from the library. Also, I have no space to keep many books in my current living arrangements.
Another problem was that, when I read a book, I became totally absorbed in it, and didn’t want to put it down until I finished reading it. So I didn’t read a lot of books when my children were young. I thought they were a greater priority for my attention, and I enjoyed spending time with them. Most of my reading material at that time, was newspapers and magazine short stories and articles, which could be read and put down in a short period of time, without neglecting the greater focus, my children. There you have it; after all these years, I’m confessing to a love affair - with books. One my husband couldn’t object to as long as he had sufficient attention also.
At the small rural school we attended, the number of books was limited. I went through them all, and when I had done so, I re-read some of them again and again. There were two books in particular that I recall: one I read 11 times, and the other 13! Many of the other books I read more than once, but I apparently didn’t keep count, though the number wasn't as great as those mentioned above.
When I began high school, the library was larger, and I started work on that. In English class, we had to read and make a book report, up to a certain number of points per year. In the first few weeks, I devoured as many books as possible, making a report on each one. One day I realized I had accumulated 80 points in short order, way over the required number. I thought, “Whoa! You have to stop reporting, or you will run out of new books for reports in later classes."
As the years went by, access to larger libraries and book stores became available. I might go in a book store looking for a specific book, and carry out an arm load of books. It was like that commercial about not being able to eat just one chip. I couldn’t go in a book store and come out with just one book. So I decided to limit my visits to book stores.
The cost of living being what it is today, and within the limits of my income, I now get most of my reading material from the library. Also, I have no space to keep many books in my current living arrangements.
Another problem was that, when I read a book, I became totally absorbed in it, and didn’t want to put it down until I finished reading it. So I didn’t read a lot of books when my children were young. I thought they were a greater priority for my attention, and I enjoyed spending time with them. Most of my reading material at that time, was newspapers and magazine short stories and articles, which could be read and put down in a short period of time, without neglecting the greater focus, my children. There you have it; after all these years, I’m confessing to a love affair - with books. One my husband couldn’t object to as long as he had sufficient attention also.
Monday, July 27, 2009
My Mother's Kitchen
This morning I saw part of a segment on TODAY about favorite family recipes. That brought to mind my favorite remembered aroma, coming from my mother's kitchen: Apple Custard Pie. I've never known anyone else who made it, and I believe one of my children said they didn't like custard, when I mentioned this pie. But, oh those delicious apple/cinnamon aromas wafting through the house! I thought it was delicious. I could hardly wait until dinner time, once I knew it was in the making. Perhaps you would get the same pleasing aromas from 'regular' apple pie, and I made a lot of those; but when mother made apple pie, it was always apple custard. She was a very good cook, and it was said that, "Mary made the flakiest pie crusts around." People also raved about her chicken and dumplings, but during that period of my life, I didn't like that particular dish.
I don't have a picture of my mother that goes with this period, but this is a snapshot of her at age 93, just a few weeks before she became ill and passed away 3-1/2 months before her 94th birthday.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
First Post
I did not set out to blog; I just wanted to follow some who were blogging. Then I found that I had to create an account in order to follow the blogs! I also didn't set out to twitter; I just wanted to be tweeted by people whose lives are of interest to me. Now, I can tweet on Twitter, if I choose to.
Nonsense: For the first time in my life, I spilled an entire cup of coffee on the floor this morning. Occasional spills, of course, but not so much. While watching that crazy, dancing wedding on Today, I was careless in setting down my coffee cup, and behold - a mess! Incidentally, I missed the last part of the dance, while trying to limit the coffee disaster. What a way to start the day.
Nonsense: For the first time in my life, I spilled an entire cup of coffee on the floor this morning. Occasional spills, of course, but not so much. While watching that crazy, dancing wedding on Today, I was careless in setting down my coffee cup, and behold - a mess! Incidentally, I missed the last part of the dance, while trying to limit the coffee disaster. What a way to start the day.
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