UPDATE:  June 20, 2009 

 Rosie & I are going to be GRANDPARENTS!

Due Date: February 1, 2010

My dad's first experiment of Camping was in a "Covered Wagon" of sorts... Actually, it was in a Covered Truck! Daddy had a Custom Built Covered Truck  that we used for our Egg Delivery Business: Stack 'em High & Keep 'em Dry! 

 Back in the day, one of my "jobs" on the Chicken Farm, or Egg Farm, was that on the way to High School I had to deliver eggs to the A&P, Winn-Dixie, etc. Let's just say that putting all those cases of eggs behind a 15-16 year old driver meant that "some" of those eggs may have gotten "cracked" en route... Back in the 60's, a 15 year old could drive on public highways without a Licensed Driver if it were work related. So during my Sophomore and Junior Years at Thomson High School, I was known as the "Egg Man",  or the "Chicken Man"... But that's a different story for another time. I will say that when I returned home from school with a case or two of "damaged merchandise" oozing out the tail gate... I had a very "forgiving" daddy!  You think that's why he always seemed to "plant" a couple of extra egg cases in the truck? Just in case  Humpty Dumpty Had a Great Fall? 

While I'm thinking about it... The Covered Truck was more like Work for two of the four delivery days. On alternating days, since there were fewer eggs to delivery to smaller stores along the route to school, I drove our 1965 VW Van. Turn the Calendar Back a few years... Another Time... Another Place! Eggs or No Eggs... I was driving a "Hippie Van" to High School.  Far Out, Man! Come the Weekends, the Van was mine to race up and down the Roads. But for dating, I drove my '62 Chevy Belair and then my '67 Chevy Impala. In fact, I have a picture posted of Rosie and I Leaving the Church after our Wedding in the Impala... But, Today, we Turn The Clock Back Even Further to the Time when "Little Billy" was not the "Chicken Man", but rather, a "Happy Camper"!

Now, that I've Transported you "Back in Time"... Remember Camping? I mean Real Camping with Tents, Sleeping Bags, Open Fires, AND the most Delicious Delicacy known to All Kids:  Campfire S'mores!  Now that was Living... But not necessarily the most comfortable sleeping conditions for a working dad? My daddy had a better idea! Remember the "Covered Wagon" Truck I was talking about?

Daddy would lay out a double bed mattress with pillows and a complete set of linens and home made quilts (Thanks to momma's help) on the Truck Bed... Hmmm, you think today's term, "Truck Bed", originated from the Beds of Homesteaders Who Headed West in their Covered Wagons?  My dad's idea of roughing it had NOTHING to do with sleeping in a Tent on the Ground in an Army Sleeping Bag. He must have had enough of that kind of camping back in WWII? So daddy's Pick 'em Up Covered Truck was Roughing It for him!

In fact, that's the only way he would agree to go on Camp Outs, which was a real weekend "Trip" to the Lake for "Us" Royal Ambassadors (Southern Baptists' Version of the Boy Scouts). I still have my Badges, Pins, Bars & Stars... Always the Proverbial Over-Achiever!  Many of you may be able to relate? While I was No NERD (at least not in my eyes =o) I just wanted to be the Best at "Whatever"... Imagine the CURSE of always wanting to make a "100", not a 99, not a 98, but a 100! I wanted an A+ 100 on all my Tests! Did it pay off? Read my Posted Bio here at AARP? You decide... My Running a Prison Mental Health Program for over 16 years... does make me WONDER about that! 

"Back in Time"... And back on Track: Talking about Camping... I can still see and smell the smoke from the Mosquito Repellent "Burner" that daddy placed at the open end of our "Covered Wagon"... Do those things still exist? They looked like the eye of an electric stove and had about a 10-12 hour burn time. Who Knew About Second Hand Smoke? All we knew was that it kept those Blood Sucking Georgia Mosquitoes Away!  

Are you still with me? While all the other kids were in tents and sleeping bags on the cold hard ground, Daddy and I  were High and Dry and Sleeping in Style! Now that was Camping! I think the real reason he went with us was because of his Love of Outdoor Cooking and Eating... (His Bass-Fillet Fish Fries were all the Rave)! Daddy was up at first light, firing-up the Coleman Stove for a Wonderful Breakfast to fill the bellies of a bunch of little boys eager to hike, fish, and swim... and Earn a Badge or two along the way! 

Wagons Ho! 

I was "Twentyone And Strong As I Could Be" (Reminds me of a Song)!

Rosie and I had just moved from Augusta, Ga to Blacksburg, VA where I was pursing my  Masters Degree at Virginia Tech. Little did I know that on the afternoon of October 15th that it was to take me Six Weeks to get home...

You see the picture of me in the Hospital Bed in "My Photos"? That was taken "Post MotorBike Accident" and after 4 Weeks of being in Contact Isolation (Total: 6 Weeks in Hospital), The posted picture is the first time I had seen Rosie without her wearing a Surgical Gown. When I saw her, I dubbed her "Toothpick Chick". For "Some Reason" she had been so worried about me that she must'a forget to eat a meal or two =o)

Anyway, before my Bike Accident, I already had Long Hair... But this is my First and Last Beard. Unlike many guys, once it "grew on me", I "never left home without it". My Cute Young Nurses dubbed me "Jesus". Can't Imagine Why? Maybe because I was in a "Constant State" of Prayer, Asking (Begging) The Lord to Save My Leg (The Rest of Me was Already "Saved" =o)

Long Story Short: After four surgeries, the first two with a 50/50 Chance of waking up without a left leg, the second two involved bone grafts and skin graphs, and almost seven weeks later...  What it really INVOLVED was a MIRACLE! For some Reason, God Chose to Heal Me, Saving My Leg! My Surgeon, and "Unbeliever" before my mom got a'hold of him... Believed only in himself and his abilities (which explains why what he "accomplished" was published in at least one medical journal). I said all that to say this: In the weeks to come, we were to learn that after my initial surgery, he called all the staff together and laid down the Law: "I'm going to saved this boy's leg! Each of you better do EXACTLY what I tell you!"

After the second successful surgery, when he was Confident that he would not have to amputate my leg (which he said if he saved that I would never be able to  bend my knee or ankle, not realizing God had another Better Idea) he explained The Phenomenal Success to my mom and dad... As he walked away, he turned back, looked at my mom, and with a smile on his face said, "You are right, Mrs. Garrison, I guess there is a God after all." Is that KEWL or WHAT! GOD IS GOOD! By the way, Dr. Barranco, an Orthopedic Surgeon, did most the work pro-bono. He and his partner, who had been the Orthopedic Surgeon for the Chicago Bears, decided to set up practice in the small college town of Blacksburg, Va because or its Natural Beauty. The hospital was so small, my room was on the "Pediatric Ward"... While he was a talented Surgeon, God was The Great Physician!

 And then... There was a Very Special Nurse Who Ministered to me in the "Wee Hours" of the morning the night after my Emergency Surgery... She was "like" My Special Angel,  Wearing a Nurse's Uniform... She "Ministered" to me after Rosie finally felt comfortable enough to go home to clean up and put on some shoes (that's another story =o) My mom and dad were in route from Augusta to Blacksburg... Slowing creeping through the Mountain Roads (prior to Interstate 77 being completed). It was on October 15, it was raining,  the leaves had just fallen... daddy could not see the lines on the mountain roads! But did that STOP them from immediately packing and and heading for Blacksburg-- Nothing would keep them away their baby( that would be me =o)

WoW! My Parents...

Any way, Rosie and I were all "alone", far from home, with only a few new friends... That first night after Emergency Surgery there was this "Sweetest Middle Aged Nurse", who reminded me of my mother, who "Ministered" to me... Telling me that it would be Okay, my parents were on the way, Rosie was safe at home, praying with me, comforting me, holding my hand, even telling me God was going to use my surgeon to save my leg... I was in God's Hands! All through the Wee Hours of the morning, she was in and out of my room-- more in than out... Early in the Morning, when my parents arrived with Rosie, I told them all about the "Special Nurse", who apparently was on duty for the 11p-7a Shift. The Day Shift Nurses were not "exactly sure" who I was talking about...

My mom stayed around the next night to "Thank Her" for taking care of her "Baby" for her... When My Nurse did not show, I asked the Charge Nurse about My Special Nurse from the night before (for some reason, I could no longer remember her name)... As I described her in detail, The Charge Nurse said, "I'm sorry, but we didn't have a nurse working last night that looks like that. I don't know who you are talking about?"... I Never Saw Her Again!

Makes One Wonder... "Let brotherly love continue. Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained Angels unawares (Hebrews 13:1-2)"

My Azaleas are for Jen... This is the way our front yard looks when the Yankees Whiz by during the Masters Golf Thingy   We live in National Hills, as in the Augusta National... Every Year, Augusta is still INVADED BY YANKEES!

Do You Remember When You First Heard this? 

The Little Match-Seller
by Hans Christian Andersen (1846)
 
It was terribly cold and nearly dark on the last evening of the old year, and the snow was falling fast. In the cold and the darkness, a poor little girl, with bare head and naked feet, roamed through the streets. It is true she had on a pair of slippers when she left home, but they were not of much use. They were very large, so large, indeed, that they had belonged to her mother, and the poor little creature had lost them in running across the street to avoid two carriages that were rolling along at a terrible rate. One of the slippers she could not find, and a boy seized upon the other and ran away with it, saying that he could use it as a cradle, when he had children of his own. So the little girl went on with her little naked feet, which were quite red and blue with the cold. In an old apron she carried a number of matches, and had a bundle of them in her hands. No one had bought anything of her the whole day, nor had anyone given her even a penny. Shivering with cold and hunger, she crept along; poor little child, she looked the picture of misery. The snowflakes fell on her long, fair hair, which hung in curls on her shoulders, but she regarded them not.

Lights were shining from every window, and there was a savory smell of roast goose, for it was New-year’s eve—yes, she remembered that. In a corner, between two houses, one of which projected beyond the other, she sank down and huddled herself together. She had drawn her little feet under her, but she could not keep off the cold; and she dared not go home, for she had sold no matches, and could not take home even a penny of money. Her father would certainly beat her; besides, it was almost as cold at home as here, for they had only the roof to cover them, through which the wind howled, although the largest holes had been stopped up with straw and rags. Her little hands were almost frozen with the cold. Ah! perhaps a burning match might be some good, if she could draw it from the bundle and strike it against the wall, just to warm her fingers. She drew one out—"scratch!" how it sputtered as it burnt! It gave a warm, bright light, like a little candle, as she held her hand over it. It was really a wonderful light. It seemed to the little girl that she was sitting by a large iron stove, with polished brass feet and a brass ornament. How the fire burned! and seemed so beautifully warm that the child stretched out her feet as if to warm them, when, lo! the flame of the match went out, the stove vanished, and she had only the remains of the half-burnt match in her hand.

She rubbed another match on the wall. It burst into a flame, and where its light fell upon the wall it became as transparent as a veil, and she could see into the room. The table was covered with a snowy white table-cloth, on which stood a splendid dinner service, and a steaming roast goose, stuffed with apples and dried plums. And what was still more wonderful, the goose jumped down from the dish and waddled across the floor, with a knife and fork in its breast, to the little girl. Then the match went out, and there remained nothing but the thick, damp, cold wall before her.

She lighted another match, and then she found herself sitting under a beautiful Christmas-tree. It was larger and more beautifully decorated than the one which she had seen through the glass door at the rich merchant’s. Thousands of tapers were burning upon the green branches, and colored pictures, like those she had seen in the show-windows, looked down upon it all. The little one stretched out her hand towards them, and the match went out.

The Christmas lights rose higher and higher, till they looked to her like the stars in the sky. Then she saw a star fall, leaving behind it a bright streak of fire. "Someone is dying," thought the little girl, for her old grandmother, the only one who had ever loved her, and who was now dead, had told her that when a star falls, a soul was going up to God.

She again rubbed a match on the wall, and the light shone round her; in the brightness stood her old grandmother, clear and shining, yet mild and loving in her appearance. "Grandmother," cried the little one, "O take me with you; I know you will go away when the match burns out; you will vanish like the warm stove, the roast goose, and the large, glorious Christmas-tree." And she made haste to light the whole bundle of matches, for she wished to keep her grandmother there. And the matches glowed with a light that was brighter than the noon-day, and her grandmother had never appeared so large or so beautiful. She took the little girl in her arms, and they both flew upwards in brightness and joy far above the earth, where there was neither cold nor hunger nor pain, for they were with God.

In the dawn of morning there lay the poor little one, with pale cheeks and smiling mouth, leaning against the wall; she had been frozen to death on the last evening of the year; and the New-year’s sun rose and shone upon a little corpse! The child still sat, in the stiffness of death, holding the matches in her hand, one bundle of which was burnt. "She tried to warm herself," said some. No one imagined what beautiful things she had seen, nor into what glory she had entered with her grandmother, on New-year’s day.

At First Glance, this does not seem to be a HAPPY NEW YEAR MESSAGE... 

But when you THINK about it... The Old has Gone... The New has Come... I hope that I and You, too, will see "The Little Match-Sellers" that the Lord places in Our Lives...

I Am Blessed... Will I Return Even A Portion of that Which has been Given to Me?

Happy New Year! 

SANTA CRASH?

Do you remember when you experienced your own  "Great Santa Crash"?

I remember it well...
Thanks to my older brother, Ronnie,
Who could not wait to tell!

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;

My brother and I were all snuggled in bed.
I with visions of Santa and his Reindeer dancing in my head,
My brother with thoughts of "malicious intent" instead!
I could see the Red Rider Bike with Double Headlights
That would be left under the tree for me on this very Special Night!

When to my surprise, I heard the sound of the engine in my dad's '57 Chevy come alive;
Out in the yard it made such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
None other than my daddy driving his '57 Chevy - With No Reindeer!

Slowly he circled the driveway of our house,
Then onto the road, he slowly drove...
Drove right out into this Wintry Night,
Not a single headlight in sight?

"Where could our dad be going this Christmas Eve Night", I asked?
As I begin to sense my brother's malicious delight...

So lively and quick, with a broad smirk on his face
And with an strange look of glee in his eyes...
He could hardly a moment longer wait
To blurt out the Truth about St. Nick and his Reindeer, too.

More rapid than eagles his words flew out,
He whistled, and shouted, as he laughingly called out,
"You, Dummy!" What do you think he's doing?
He going to the storage house to get your bike!

In my innocence I did not at first understand.
I could only reply, "Why? Why? O, Why?"
Why is daddy leaving our house this Christmas Eve Night!

So with no more delay,
I was about to learn the TRUTH of Santa, his Sleigh, and Reindeer, too...

As Ronnie then called Santa by his Real Name,
My hopes and dreams were dashed down the drain!
Dashed away! Dashed away! Dashed away all!

Now as dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
I fell to my bed, eyes filled with tears...
At this moment of dread,
I now only had fears dancing through my head!

No more visions of Dasher, Dancer, Prancer,
Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donder, or Blitzen;
No matter how hard I tried
Even "The Most Famous Reindeer of Them All", Rudolph, had died!

My visions of a Sleigh full of toys had vanished.
They were simply gone, gone, gone...
Just like my visions of St. Nicholas, too!

My brother's eyes, however, twinkled with self-delight!
His dimples appeared devilishly merry!
Surely, he had done it again -- that old GRINCH of a brother...
He thought he had made Christmas not so merry for Little Brother!

And then, in a twinkling,
I realized what my mom and dad were doing for me!
I remembered the JOY and EXCITEMENT of CHRISTMAS!
I remembered the Little Baby Jesus Who Was Born in a Manager!

I began to imagine my mom and dad
Prancing and pawing around the Christmas Tree,
Making everything just right for me -- just right for me!

I could see their eyes on Christmas Morning...
How they twinkled! How full of Love they would be!

I looked over at my brother,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
He had NOT ruined Christmas, NOT ruined it at all!

With a wink of my eye and a twist of my head,
I lay on my pillow... nothing to dread.

I settled down for a long winter's nap
With a new appreciation for my mom and for my dad.

As it turned out, this was to be "The Most Wonderful Christmas of All" for me!

I now understood there was no Santa Claus...
Only a Babe Who was Born Savior of us All!

"HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!"

TOYLAND
  --Lyrics by Glen MacDonough; Music by Victor Herbert
 --Sung by Perry Como
 
Toyland, Toyland,
 Little Girl and Boy Land,
 While you dwell within it,
 You are ever happy there.
 
Childhood’s Joyland,
 Mystical, Merry Toyland!
 Once you pass its borders,
 You can never return again...
  
Could you guess that "Toyland" just happens to be one of my favorite Christmas Songs? I believe in carefully guarding those "borders" as much as possible -- never wanting to forget -- never wanting to lose the joy of Toyland -- never wanting to completely pass its borders...
 
My mom taught me the values of Toyland long before I had ever heard the words of the song... You should have seen mom at Christmas! She knew how to experience its wonder, celebrate its joy, and share its love with others. For example, on cold winter nights when a freeze was expected, my mom would "sneak" outside late at night and turn the water sprinklers on so that the water would "rain" on the eves and windows of our home. By morning, Ronnie, my older brother, and I would wake to a beautiful "Winter Wonderland Land" rarely, if ever, seen at Christmastime in Dearing, Georgia. I’ll never forget gazing at the artwork of those long cascading, shimmering ice cycles covering our windows...
 
As "adults" and as parents, Rosie and I have continued to take these simple poetic words to heart... trying to keep "the child in us" alive with joyful wonder and expectation, while sharing this gift with our children -- Ian, Lauren, and Billy (Lauren’s husband). It must be working, because Billy has said that having Christmas at our house is like being a child again...
 
 
TAKE ME BACK TOYLAND
--Lyrics by Kal Mann; Music by Bernie Lowe
--Sung by Nat King Cole
 
Please take me back to Toyland;
Everyone’s happy there.
 
It’s more than a girl and boy Land
Where dreams just like toys can be shared.
 
If you believe in Toyland,
Believe in things that you cannot see;
 
All the world would become a Joyland;
What a Wonderful World this would be...
 
  
Let’s all try to hold on to "Childhood’s Joyland, Mystical, Merry Toyland" as much as we can,

Billy & Rosie

Maybe some of you are like me?

GOD FORBID!     

I’ve a tendency to hold on to All Kinds of Stuff... Don’t believe me? Then check out our Attic! Well, maybe you shouldn’t  since it is difficult to get into after all these years of Saving Stuff...

Many years ago, when I returned home from the University of Georgia, I discovered my mom had given away so much of my stuff, to include my Trumpet. Yup! I was in the Thomson Bulldog High School Marching Band! Many of my Games... Gone! My Tonka Trucks... Gone! My Legos... Gone! My Baseball Card Collection... Gone! My Chemistry Set... Gone!  

My mother had a "Heart" for those less fortunate than we... Without a doubt, it brought her Great Joy to give away my "Toys"... After all, I was  a College Man who surely had put away my "Childish" Things... Not to mention that she needed room to expand her Arts & Crafts Supply Closet...

Have you ever said that you were NOT going to be like your mom and dad? Let’s just say that practically every Toy Ian and Lauren have ever had lurks "Somewhere Up There" in the Attic   But I will quickly ADD that "to be like my mom and dad" would be living up to a Wonderful Example. My parents were The Best! Wonderful Christians who Lived and Passed on their Love of the Lord, Jesus Christ...

Put another way, I’m sure that Ian’s Original Star Wars’ Collection and Lauren’s Cabbage Patch Babies have to be a "Worth Something"! If not in Money, in terms of Sentimental Value

Which brings me to The Butterfly. Yup! I know it is Loosely Connected, but then most of my "Screws are Loose"  

Since signing onto the www Way Back in 1997, I have saved more than a few special "forwards" that  touched My Heart. Today,  while I was taking a "Trip down Memory Lane",  reading some of my "Saved Stuff"...  I found myself in the Year of Our Lord  2000, when I saw  "The Butterfly".  Upon reading it again, I thought it Worthy of being Shared.

You may have already seen this Inspirational Piece written by Rita Gangele? I rarely get  responses  from  forwarded emails, nor do I expect any... But in my "Pioneer Daze" of Venturing into Cyberspace and Back Again,   "The Butterfly" was particularly  meaningful to me, as well as to others to whom I had sent it as a "forward". 

Watch and Listen Carefully

The man whispered, "God, speak
to me" and a meadowlark sang.
But, the man did not hear.
 
So the man yelled "God, speak to
me!" And, the thunder rolled
across the sky.
But, the man did not listen.
 
The man looked around and said,
"God let me see you." And a
star shined brightly.
But the man did not notice.
 
And, the man shouted, "God show me
a miracle!" And, a life was born.
But, the man did not know.
 
So, the man cried out in despair,
"Touch me God, and let me know
you are here!" Where upon, God reached
down and touched the man.
 
But, the man brushed the butterfly
away and walked on.
 
May you not miss out on a blessing
because it isn’t packaged the way
that you expect.

-- Rita Gangele

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What a Challenge!  Yet, I wonder how many times I am like "the man" who missed a blessing because it wasn’t what I expected, or wanted to see, or wanted to hear, or was just jut too busy with "Things of this World" to even Notice 

God Is Good!