In as much as you, dear readers know "the rest of the story" (how my life changed with my marriage to Joy Hall, on April 30, 1988), it is time to conclude blogging about my life; blogging that began on April 8, 2009, with the story of how a certain five-year-old bit into a juicy worm that was making its home inside a plump, red tomato.
I intend to continue blogging, but not along story lines. Instead, I will be commenting (with a 90- year-old slant) on the news of the day. At this writing, I am considering segmenting the news under headings such as government, sports, politics and items of general interest about life as it surrounds us. Keep watching.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Thursday, June 23, 2011
MORE OUTREACH
In a previous blog (Reaching Out), I talked about reaching out, as a volunteer, to international people here in the U.S., for a variety of reasons. I was involved in volunteering on the domestic scene as well.
About three miles from my home in McLean was an elementary school. Like most of the schools in our country, there is a constant need for volunteers, and this school was no exception. I called the school to sign up "as needed" and they needed reading helpers. I moved from one class to another, three times a week, enjoying every minute of it.
In one of the third grade classes I met a youngster named R___. He had just arrived from a South American country with his diplomat parents and siblings, he being the oldest child in the family. R____ had never been exposed to the English language, so you can imagine his predicament.
R____and I became buddies. With his parents' approval I would take him to the Tysons Corner shopping center on a Saturday. We would walk around looking in the store windows to see new words, then we would have lunch so he could learn words from the menu. It was soooooooo enjoyable for me to see how quickly he could grasp new words and ideas, and, of course, it was a great boost for him in school.
Another meaningful volunteering opportunity for me was at the CENTRAL UNION MISSION, A Christian organization dedicated to reaching the poor in Washington, D.C. There I taught a basic literacy course to men.
More, later.
About three miles from my home in McLean was an elementary school. Like most of the schools in our country, there is a constant need for volunteers, and this school was no exception. I called the school to sign up "as needed" and they needed reading helpers. I moved from one class to another, three times a week, enjoying every minute of it.
In one of the third grade classes I met a youngster named R___. He had just arrived from a South American country with his diplomat parents and siblings, he being the oldest child in the family. R____ had never been exposed to the English language, so you can imagine his predicament.
R____and I became buddies. With his parents' approval I would take him to the Tysons Corner shopping center on a Saturday. We would walk around looking in the store windows to see new words, then we would have lunch so he could learn words from the menu. It was soooooooo enjoyable for me to see how quickly he could grasp new words and ideas, and, of course, it was a great boost for him in school.
Another meaningful volunteering opportunity for me was at the CENTRAL UNION MISSION, A Christian organization dedicated to reaching the poor in Washington, D.C. There I taught a basic literacy course to men.
More, later.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
POP POP THE STORY-TELLER
In my status as a widower I was always looking for something to occupy my time, and one day I found such a treasure. A Washington Post notice from the Smithsonian Institute, advertising basic story-telling training struck me that it was something I could do.
To make a long story short, three weeks to the day after answering the ad, I found myself heading to Boone, North Carolina, to the campus of Appalachian State College, for a three-week course in story-telling. I had with me my newly-purchased guitar, along with a learn-to-do-it -yourself book that guaranteed success.
I found myself the only man in the course, with 13 women, all of them either teachers or librarians. It was a wonderful experience for me to listen to an engaging professor who knew her field so well. She made story-telling come alive to us and I figuratively ate it up. She gave me an "A" for the course, which I graciously accepted.
Upon returning home, I knew that as a genuine story-teller, I needed a good guitar teacher. I found one right in McLean, VA. In about a month I was "ready to go," ready to share my talents with the world!
The world, at that moment, happened to be a Montessori School, about a quarter of a mile from my home. Their acceptance of me was the beginning of about four years of happy times with school children, including my grandchildren.
More, later.
To make a long story short, three weeks to the day after answering the ad, I found myself heading to Boone, North Carolina, to the campus of Appalachian State College, for a three-week course in story-telling. I had with me my newly-purchased guitar, along with a learn-to-do-it -yourself book that guaranteed success.
I found myself the only man in the course, with 13 women, all of them either teachers or librarians. It was a wonderful experience for me to listen to an engaging professor who knew her field so well. She made story-telling come alive to us and I figuratively ate it up. She gave me an "A" for the course, which I graciously accepted.
Upon returning home, I knew that as a genuine story-teller, I needed a good guitar teacher. I found one right in McLean, VA. In about a month I was "ready to go," ready to share my talents with the world!
The world, at that moment, happened to be a Montessori School, about a quarter of a mile from my home. Their acceptance of me was the beginning of about four years of happy times with school children, including my grandchildren.
More, later.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
ENJOYING THE OUTDOORS
Since my early boyhood days I was always nominated to "do the yard work," which included mowing the lawn, trimming the hedges and so on.
While living in Harrisburg, my family surprised me with the birthday gift of a Sears riding mower. It was a good choice, for I used it for several years. Like most Sears products, it was reliable and useful. When I would get the news that dear son and his family were coming to visit, I would get the mower ready for "joy-riding" with granddaughter #1. She would ride with me as I mowed, surreptitiously throw my hat onto the lawn, and try to pick up same as we went around. Such fun!
In addition to readying the mower, I always decorated the driveway with small American flags as a welcome sign. They were a compliment to the large flag I flew daily from a 20 foot flagpole, a gift to me from dear daughter.
The smell of the freshly mowed lawn, the aroma of flowers, the enjoyment of family participation and the time to sit under the shady trees are an everlasting memory to me.
More, later.
While living in Harrisburg, my family surprised me with the birthday gift of a Sears riding mower. It was a good choice, for I used it for several years. Like most Sears products, it was reliable and useful. When I would get the news that dear son and his family were coming to visit, I would get the mower ready for "joy-riding" with granddaughter #1. She would ride with me as I mowed, surreptitiously throw my hat onto the lawn, and try to pick up same as we went around. Such fun!
In addition to readying the mower, I always decorated the driveway with small American flags as a welcome sign. They were a compliment to the large flag I flew daily from a 20 foot flagpole, a gift to me from dear daughter.
The smell of the freshly mowed lawn, the aroma of flowers, the enjoyment of family participation and the time to sit under the shady trees are an everlasting memory to me.
More, later.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
A SAD, SAD, SAD DAY (conclusion)
The days after Lumberton became a blur. I was so thankful for the support of dear son and family. Dear daughter, teaching in France, flew home immediately. Arrangements were made for viewing, followed by a service in the McLean Bible Church. Following the service, dear wife was buried in a cemetery, about one hour's drive from our home. I will never forget the people singing Ruth's favorite hymn, IVORY PALACES, at the graveside.
In retrospect, I would say that it took about one year to adjust to my new life. I was thankful to have a work schedule to occupy my time, as well as visits to dear son and his family, in Richmond, VA, and visits to the grave site. Often I would come home expecting to see my dear wife, smiling, only to realize, as I entered the driveway, that she was not there. Over time the situation eased.
Later in the month, I flew to Europe to spend dear daughter's vacation time with her. It was a wonderful two weeks of being in "another world," you might say.
In the Scriptures, the Apostle Paul told the believers in Corinth that "the God of all comfort comforts us in all of our troubles so that we, in turn, can comfort those in trouble, with the comfort we receive from God (II Corinthians 1:3, 4, 7). Many times I have been guided by those words to help others because of what I have experienced in my lifetime.
More, later.
In retrospect, I would say that it took about one year to adjust to my new life. I was thankful to have a work schedule to occupy my time, as well as visits to dear son and his family, in Richmond, VA, and visits to the grave site. Often I would come home expecting to see my dear wife, smiling, only to realize, as I entered the driveway, that she was not there. Over time the situation eased.
Later in the month, I flew to Europe to spend dear daughter's vacation time with her. It was a wonderful two weeks of being in "another world," you might say.
In the Scriptures, the Apostle Paul told the believers in Corinth that "the God of all comfort comforts us in all of our troubles so that we, in turn, can comfort those in trouble, with the comfort we receive from God (II Corinthians 1:3, 4, 7). Many times I have been guided by those words to help others because of what I have experienced in my lifetime.
More, later.
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