|
VERY WELL
by Vance |
|
| |
In cleaning out my carless two-car garage, I am finding
belongings and keepsakes of a very special man, Walter
Perry. They were stored here in 1990.
| |
Walter Perry resided in a humble white rancher on Gilbert
Street in LeRoy, New York, near Batavia. Walter was my
stepfather for nearly 20 years. Although well-known on his
street and in his church, Walter was not rich or famous, no
one very special on the surface. He was 79 but personally
kept his house painted and his lawn mowed. He also still
worked for a local factory, as needed! He was often
needed.
| |
He had just bought a new subcompact car, and was very
proud of its high gas mileage. He always wore the
shoulder belt. Too infrequently we would make reciprocal
visits to LeRoy, and he and my mother to Lewiston. I took
for granted that there would always be that little house on
Gilbert Street and always my mom and Walter anxiously
awaiting our arrival. She would always have something for
us (generally unneeded) which she had enjoyed buying
with her social security money, and certainly a new toy for
our daughter. I remember their last visit to us in Lewiston,
as though it were last week.
| |
One day Walter phoned to tell us that my mother had
suffered a stroke and was in the hospital. We found her
communicative and in good spirits. Time would reveal that
her stroke had caused enough injury to require a nursing
home. Time would reveal that that she would decline from
mini strokes. She was placed in a nursing home in Batavia,
with a truly dedicated staff. Unfortunately, it was a one hour
drive for us and 15 minutes for Walter. I know that Walter
was expecting that she would be able to come home. But
more about Walter....
| |
As a child he had a disease that left him learning disabled.
If you visited his little book-filled den/study, you would never
guess that. On his desk was always a new book opened,
on the strangest mix of topics: history, logic, literature,
economics (!), geography or science. As a common
laborer, without a high school diploma, he was more of a
true "lifelong learner" than many educated people. This
always amazed me.
| |
And then there was his service to others. He had remained
a bachelor, in order to nurse an ailing mother and aunt,
until their passing. Then he met my mother. But when he
said that he had to help the "old people" down the street
mow their lawn or do heavy chores, I always wondered how
old they would have to be in order to make 79 young!
| |
And then there was his faithfulness to my mother. Every day
after work he would drive to see her and spend with her the
entire evening visiting hours. I suspect that very deep down
he realized that she would never go back home.
| |
Then one night in October of 1989, after a day's work and a
long visit, he complained to the nursing home staff that he
was very tired from a cold. He went to his little car and
fastened the seat belt. And later he just fell asleep at the
wheel.
| |
At 2:00 a.m. we were awakened by a call from the Genesee
County Sheriff's Department. Walter had suffered a terrible
car crash and had not made it beyond the ER. As my
mother was later able to say, "I lost my husband and my
best friend." My wife and I had lost our rock, the one person
upon whom we could depend to keep my mother as happy
and alert as possible.
| |
After my mother's passing, I helped the movers to pack the
very things so special to Walter that I am now finding in our
garage. I look at these things -- old cards, antiques,
souvenirs, dishes, knickknacks -- and I wonder their
meaning to Walter. I've learned about appreciating others
while we can, about the amazing things done by seemingly
very common people, about generosity and service to
others (Walter's "old people"), and something spoken by
the clergyman at Walter's funeral service: "When in Heaven
God met people who had experienced good lives on earth.
He would ask them about their lives, and they would
complain. Sadly, God told them that then they would not like
Heaven, either. When God greeted Walter Perry, He asked:
"Walter, how did you like life on earth?" Walter immediately
replied: "Very well!"
| | | |
Vance Agee
| | | |
The author comments: | |
I am the Assistant Principal at Lewiston-Porter High School
in Youngstown, NY, near Lake Ontario, Niagara Falls and
Buffalo. I am also currently an adjunct (part time) prof in the
College of Education at Niagara University. My community
activities include the Lewiston Council of the Arts and the
Lewiston-Queenston Rotary Club. I am a Rotary Paul
Harris Fellow. My interests include languages, travel (I have
been to many countries), martial arts, history, and, of
course, writing.
| |
|
TAILWIND AND A RESERVE PARACHUTE
by Keith |
|
| |
It was a warm September day and some friends and I
decided to hurl ourselves from an airplane at 6,000 ft. This
was actually my 30th-birthday present. We arrived and
signed up for a class that would prepare us for what we
were about to face. The class is designed to familiarize you
with the equipment, how to operate it, and how to handle
any situation that may come up. The class lasted for 5
hours and we were quizzed over and over and made to act
and react out safety techniques.
| |
Finally it was my turn to go up for my first jump with one of
my friends. With the training fresh in our heads, we still
remembered that once we left the plane we were on our
own. We chose to do an instructor-assisted deployment.
This means that the instructor pulls the pilot chute (a small
parachute that is released and fills with air to pull the main
parachute from the backpack) and throws it as the jumper
leaves the plane. Once out of the plane the rest is up to the
jumper. A few minutes before our jump, they switched the
type of plane we would jump from...this meant the training
of leaving the plane we had in the morning no longer
applied. They gave us a quick run-through of how to leave
the new plane and a few minutes later we were airborne.
| |
I was the first jumper. We climbed to 6,000 ft, and I spotted
my target. My jumpmaster pulled my pilot chute and I
positioned myself to exit the plane. He gave me the signal
and I went. I counted to six (like instructed) and looked up
over my left shoulder to see that my parachute had not
opened fully or correctly. I was falling like a rock. I identified
the malfunction and thought I was to blame. I performed the
corrective measures just as I was taught. At first it seemed
to work, but it didn't! I checked my altimeter and I was at
3500 ft. The panic point is 2000 ft. This is where (no matter
what) you release (pull the cut- away cable) the main
parachute and immediately deploy the reserve parachute.
| |
I decided that the error had to be mine so I tried once more
to get my main parachute to open. To be honest, I was not
scared. I was too busy trying to figure a way out of the
situation and I was asking God for help. Though I tried the
corrective measures once more, the main parachute failed
to open. I checked my altimeter again and I was at 1900 ft. I
responded immediately by pulling the cut-away cable for
the main parachute and immediately deployed my reserve
parachute. I thanked God out loud! I, then, had to assess
where I was because I had fallen far from my scheduled
mark.
| |
The helmet I was wearing was equipped with a one-way
radio (I could receive only.) But I was too far from the airport
to hear the spotter's (the jumpmaster on the ground
watching my jump) instructions. Now my concern was
landing safely...I did as I was taught. I could no longer see
the airport where I was to land so I picked a Soft Open Flat
Area (called a SOFA) and was headed toward it when I
heard the first crack of my radio: "If you can hear me, make
a hard left turn". I immediately made the turn showing the
spotter that I could now hear him. "You're pretty low and
pretty far from the airport but we're going to try to get you
back over here." I kept the parachute as true to the course
as I could. Each time you turn a parachute you lose a lot of
altitude. Finally I could see it...but I was only at 400 ft and
falling fast. I knew there were power lines between the
airport and me. Then I received a SKYDIVER'S BEST
FRIEND...a tail wind had picked me up and was moving me
faster toward the airport.
| |
Of the 200-300 persons at the airfield that day every eye
was on me. It was said that no one took a breath until my
reserve parachute finally opened. Everyone knew I was a
student and this was my very first jump. When I touched
down I was enveloped in a mass of people congratulating
me for an excellent job, but all I could focus on was that I
felt as though I screwed up and was somewhat
embarrassed--not to mention losing a $5000 parachute.
People of all jumping experiences wanted to know what it
was like and how I did it. It was simple--I did what I had to
do--the rest was faith.
| |
Later, while talking to my spotter, I learned that he was
telling me on the radio to cut away the main parachute as
soon as I left the plane. He could see right away that my
parachute had a "non-recoverable" malfunction due to a
packing error. I also learned that since I was not
responding to his radio message (because I could not
hear him) they had already called for an ambulance before I
had opened my reserve parachute.
| |
I have jumped 20 times since then, but I will never forget
the lesson meant only for me that day. There is no longer
fear when I plunge myself from an airplane. I learned that
God's hand is in everything---sometimes it's a word, a
smile, a thought, and sometimes it's a TAILWIND and a
RESERVE PARACHUTE.
| | | |
Keith Jones
| | | |
Keith loves to travel and is very adventuresome! He is
currently restoring a house in Kansas City. He loves
bungee jumping and is planning to take flying lessons and
earn his pilot license! Keith enjoys service as well, and
takes a yearly camping trip with kids from the school for the
blind. He has one brother and one sister and the cutest
nieces and nephews you've ever seen! And he's single!!
| |
|
OUR VEGETARIAN THANKSGIVING |
|
| |
This particular Thanksgiving is right up there with the best.
Our youngest son invited us to his apartment in the city for
Thanksgiving dinner. This was to be his first time hosting
us and showing off his cooking skills. The one glitch that
seemed to be in the pudding though, was the fact that he is
a strict vegetarian. I couldn't even imagine what he would
come up with for a Thanksgiving dinner. Turkey of course
was out.
| |
We live in a rural area, with woods in the backyard. We put
out food for the deer, squirrels, birds, opossum , stray cats
and treats for the neighbors dog. Among the birds that
come are a number of wild turkeys who stroll around the
back yard at various times during the day.
| |
On Thanksgiving morning, I peeked out the bedroom
window before I got up and quietly told my husband to be
quick and peek out the window. In our backyard, as if they
knew we would miss the televised Thanksgiving parades,
were a collection of 25 wild turkeys milling around all about
our backyard!
| |
So when we went to our son's home later that day, we were
able to say we had turkeys on Thanksgiving Day and saw
the parade as well.
| |
This was truly a gift from our Father in Heaven Who made
the day even more special by sending the animals to see
us off. Might He have appreciated that we weren't having
turkey for dinner?
| | | |
"motexmo"
| |
|
HERSHEY'S DARK CHOCOLATE
by Roger |
|
| |
I guess we all know of the one person in the neighborhood
who stays by himself, or herself and has very little to do with
everyone else in the community. You know the type, Right?
Well, that is not exactly me though I am not far from it.
| |
I have been married too many times to talk about. In fact it
would be embarrassing to say the exact number. All of the
marriages were very good, as far as I was concerned yet
ended because I was unable to show love or affection. I
found it very easy to be nice, kind and responsible. I mean,
what else is there other than being good, kind, honest and
responsible? That is all I ever knew or was ever taught as a
orphan in the orphanage in Jacksonville, Florida.
| |
One day this little girl shows up at my door with dirty hands
and chocolate all over her face. "Don't move and I mean
don't move a muscle" I yelled at her as I ran to get a wash
rag. "Darn kids can't do anything without making trouble for
me" I thought as I returned to wash her hands and face.
| |
For the remainder of the day I worked as a prison guard
making sure this little trouble maker did not touch any of my
personal stuff. All day long all I heard was "Can I have this
and can I have that". I thought I would pull out what little bit
of hair I had left before the day was over. Thank God, the
phone finally rang and they were on their way back to pick
her up. But, Oh No! They had not made it back to town and
wanted to know if I would keep her for the night. Reaching
for the aspirin bottle I shook my head and told them "I
guess I have no choice."
| |
Later that evening I put Chelsey to bed and as I was about
to leave the room she looked at me and said "Poppa do
you love me?" "Of course, I love you" I hollered. "I'm your
Poppa" and then I closed the door as I left the room. "I love
you too Poppa" I heard her say in a quiet voice through the
door. I immediately opened the door and just stood there
before her. She just looked at me with her innocent face
and she smiled a little grin.
| |
The most unfamiliar feeling came over me. So I walked
over and sat down on the edge of her bed, and she kissed
my hand. I grabbed that three-year-old little baby girl and I
hugged her as tightly as I could.
| |
That is the first time in my life that I have ever felt what the
true feeling of love really felt like, even though I have four
children and have been married X number of times. I had
never known what the true feeling of love felt like until that
very moment and I had never realized it.
| |
Now Poppa and his little sweetheart eat Hershey's Dark
Chocolate in Granny's favorite recliner until Granny gets the
broom and chases Poppa and Chelsey to the bedroom
where they watch cartoons together and get chocolate all
over everything.
| |
It is true that one must learn to love before you can truly
begin to live, even at age 53.
| |
Poppa
| | |
Roger Dean Kiser, Sr.
The Sad Orphan Web Site
| | | |
Roger and his wife, Judy, also a writer live in Brunswick,
Georgia. As a child Roger was raised in a very abusive
orphanage located in Jacksonville, Florida. He has written
a book titled "Orphan" which tells of the horrors that he and
other children suffered daily, for more than ten years. His
book will be in all major bookstores on December 1st and
available through his web site/link in November, for
advanced purchase.
| |
In the last two years Roger has developed one of the most
read child abuse web sites in the world, "The Sad Orphan"
located at http://www.geocities.com/trampoline one which
displays many of his short stories.
| |
|
"MARIAH"
by Pamy |
|
| |
My little 3-year-old friend, Mariah, and her family can usually
be found in church on a Sunday morning about five rows
back from the front, and I can always see her from where I
sit at the piano.
| |
Mariah's mother had been working with her children and
teaching Mariah about God and why the family goes to
church. She had explained to Mariah that we go to church
because it is God's house and we go to see God and to
learn about Him.
| |
This particular Sunday I watched as I saw Mariah wave at
the pastor as he walked up to the front to pray. Our pastor,
who loves little children, smiled and waved right back to
Mariah.
| |
Later, Mariah came up to her Mother all excited and
exclaimed, "Mommy", "Today God waved at me!"
| | | |
Pamela R. Blaine
| | | |
Pamela and her husband live in West Virginia. They have
four children and three grandchildren. Pam plays the piano
and is an avid reader. She loves to write songs and stories.
WebPage: | |
http://members.aol.com/mblaine/pamy/PamyPlace.html
|
HOW DO YOU LOSE A "BAD DAY?"
by Maxine |
|
| |
Yesterday, my 4-year-old granddaughter, Jessica, posed
two questions to me that have left me thinking.
| |
Jessica's dad picked her up from Pre-Kindergarten, where
she got into the car and announced she would never return
to school, never ever again and not to ask or tell her too.
| |
That was all she would say and she did not want to
discuss the why of the announcement. (Of course her
Mother insisted that she tell her what had happened, and
she followed up with the school finding out it was nothing
serious). The evening progressed and Jessica's mood
became increasingly worse. By the end of the evening she
was reduced to tears.
| |
That is when I came into the picture. She called me and as
she was talking she burst into tears and declared that she
could not even talk without crying. She was obviously
frustrated so I tried to calm her down by saying, "I am so
sorry you have had a bad day." That is when the first
questions came.
| |
She answered back saying, "MeMe how do you get a bad
day?" Well, I tried feebly to give her some platitudes that a
4-year-old could understand, and then the second
question, "MeMe, how do you lose a bad day?" I couldn't
even come up with an answer for that one. After telling her
that I loved her we hung up.
| |
But the questions nagged at me all night. I could not help
but think of the wisdom of young children. We have all had
days when nothing seem to go right and we thought it
would never end. And most of us make that day worse by
adding to its negative field -- we become ill, anxious and
eventuality do as Jessica did, resort to tears.
| |
So, how do we lose this bad day? As I pondered this, I
realized we lose it by choice. The bad day may come out of
circumstances we can't control, but we have the choice
rather to keep it or lose it. We can decide to make the best
of the conditions, smile and go on or we can choose to let
the bad events take over all of our actions. I have done the
latter many times. I think the next time I have a bad day, I
will quickly try to lose it.
| |
I told Jessica to decide to have a better day tomorrow. I
hope she did. I also hope that the next time I have a bad
day, I will remember the lesson Jessica taught me.
| | | |
Maxine Wright
| |
|
WHIFF OF LONESOME
by Peter |
|
| |
Lonesome's a drover from old Abilene | |
who herded spooked steers and rarely stayed clean. | |
One day his horse pitched him, gave him the rub, | |
"Whoa!" it snorted, "you'd best bathe and scrub." | | | |
So Lonesome soaped up and washed himself blue | |
lathering honeysuckle through and through. | |
Back on the trail his pardners grew wordy. | |
Lonesome just smelled a trifle too purdy. | | |
Peter A. Letendre
http://plaza.v-wave.com/pal/
| |
|
| |
