Thursday, December 22, 2011
Monday, December 19, 2011
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
The Aging Couple
This is a story of an aging couple
Told by their son who was
President of NBC NEWS.
This is a wonderful piece by Michael Gartner, editor of newspapers large and small and president of NBC News. In 1997, he won the Pulitzer Prize for editorial writing. It is well worth reading, and a few good chuckles are guaranteed. Here goes...
My father never drove a car. Well, that's not quite right. I should say I never saw him drive a car.
He quit driving in 1927, when he was 25 years old, and the last car he drove was a 1926 Whippet.
"In those days," he told me when he was in his 90s, "to drive a car you had to do things with your hands, and do things with your feet, and look every which way, and I decided you could walk through life and enjoy it or drive through life and miss it."
At which point my mother, a sometimes salty Irishwoman, chimed in: "Oh, bull shit!" she said. "He hit a horse."
"Well," my father said, "there was that, too."
So my brother and I grew up in a household without a car. The neighbors all had cars -- the Kollingses next door had a green 1941 Dodge, the VanLaninghams across the street a gray 1936 Plymouth, the Hopsons two doors down a black 1941 Ford -- but we had none.
My father, a newspaperman in Des Moines, would take the streetcar to work and, often as not, walk the 3 miles home. If he took the streetcar home, my mother and brother and I would walk the three blocks to the streetcar stop, meet him and walk home together.
My brother, David, was born in 1935, and I was born in 1938, and sometimes, at dinner, we'd ask how come all the neighbors had cars but we had none. "No one in the family drives," my mother would explain, and that was that.
But, sometimes, my father would say, "But as soon as one of you boys turns 16, we'll get one." It was as if he wasn't sure which one of us would turn 16 first.
But, sure enough, my brother turned 16 before I did, so in 1951 my parents bought a used 1950 Chevrolet from a friend who ran the parts department at a Chevy dealership downtown.
It was a four-door, white model, stick shift, fender skirts, loaded with everything, and, since my parents didn't drive, it more or less became my brother's car.
Having a car but not being able to drive didn't bother my father, but it didn't make sense to my mother.
So in 1952, when she was 43 years old, she asked a friend to teach her to drive. She learned in a nearby cemetery, the place where I learned to drive the following year and where, a generation later, I took my two sons to practice driving. The cemetery probably was my father's idea. "Who can your mother hurt in the cemetery?" I remember him saying more than once.
For the next 45 years or so, until she was 90, my mother was the driver in the family. Neither she nor my father had any sense of direction, but he loaded up on maps -- though they seldom left the city limits -- and appointed himself navigator. It seemed to work.
Still, they both continued to walk a lot. My mother was a devout Catholic, and my father an equally devout agnostic, an arrangement that didn't seem to bother either of them through their 75 years of marriage.
(Yes, 75 years, and they were deeply in love the entire time.)
He retired when he was 70, and nearly every morning for the next 20 years or so, he would walk with her the mile to St. Augustin's Church.
She would walk down and sit in the front pew, and he would wait in the back until he saw which of the parish's two priests was on duty that morning. If it was the pastor, my father then would go out and take a 2-mile walk, meeting my mother at the end of the service and walking her home.
If it was the assistant pastor, he'd take just a 1-mile walk and then head back to the church. He called the priests "Father Fast" and "Father Slow."
After he retired, my father almost always accompanied my mother whenever she drove anywhere, even if he had no reason to go along. If she were going to the beauty parlor, he'd sit in the car and read, or go take a stroll or, if it was summer, have her keep the engine running so he could listen to the Cubs game on the radio. In the evening, then, when I'd stop by, he'd explain: "The Cubs lost again. The millionaire on second base made a bad throw to the millionaire on first base, so the multimillionaire on third base scored."
If she were going to the grocery store, he would go along to carry the bags out -- and to make sure she loaded up on ice cream. As I said, he was always the navigator, and once, when he was 95 and she was 88 and still driving, he said to me, "Do you want to know the secret of a long life?"
"I guess so," I said, knowing it probably would be something bizarre.
"No left turns," he said.
"What?" I asked.
"No left turns," he repeated. "Several years ago, your mother and I read an article that said most accidents that old people are in happen when they turn left in front of oncoming traffic.
As you get older, your eyesight worsens, and you can lose your depth perception, it said. So your mother and I decided never again to make a left turn."
"What?" I said again.
"No left turns," he said. "Think about it.. Three rights are the same as a left, and that's a lot safer. So we always make three rights."
"You're kidding!" I said, and I turned to my mother for support.
"No," she said, "your father is right. We make three rights. It works."
But then she added: "Except when your father loses count."
I was driving at the time, and I almost drove off the road as I started laughing.
"Loses count?" I asked.
"Yes," my father admitted, "that sometimes happens. But it's not a problem. You just make seven rights, and you're okay again."
I couldn't resist. "Do you ever go for 11?" I asked.
"No," he said. "If we miss it at seven, we just come home and call it a bad day. Besides, nothing in life is so important it can't be put off another day or another week."
My mother was never in an accident, but one evening she handed me her car keys and said she had decided to quit driving. That was in 1999, when she was 90.
She lived four more years, until 2003. My father died the next year, at 102.
They both died in the bungalow they had moved into in 1937 and bought a few years later for $3,000. (Sixty years later, my brother and I paid $8,000 to have a shower put in the tiny bathroom -- the house had never had one. My father would have died then and there if he knew the shower cost nearly three times what he paid for the house.)
He continued to walk daily -- he had me get him a treadmill when he was 101 because he was afraid he'd fall on the icy sidewalks but wanted to keep exercising -- and he was of sound mind and sound body until the moment he died.
One September afternoon in 2004, he and my son went with me when I had to give a talk in a neighboring town, and it was clear to all three of us that he was wearing out, though we had the usual wide-ranging conversation about politics and newspapers and things in the news.
A few weeks earlier, he had told my son, "You know, Mike, the first hundred years are a lot easier than the second hundred." At one point in our drive that Saturday, he said, "You know, I'm probably not going to live much longer."
"You're probably right," I said.
"Why would you say that?" He countered, somewhat irritated.
"Because you're 102 years old," I said..
"Yes," he said, "you're right." He stayed in bed all the next day.
That night, I suggested to my son and daughter that we sit up with him through the night.
He appreciated it, he said, though at one point, apparently seeing us look gloomy, he said:
"I would like to make an announcement. No one in this room is dead yet"
An hour or so later, he spoke his last words:
"I want you to know," he said, clearly and lucidly, "that I am in no pain. I am very comfortable. And I have had as happy a life as anyone on this earth could ever have."
A short time later, he died.
I miss him a lot, and I think about him a lot. I've wondered now and then how it was that my family and I were so lucky that he lived so long.
I can't figure out if it was because he walked through life,
Or because he quit taking left turns.
Life is too short to wake up with regrets.
So love the people who treat you right.
Forget about the one's who don't.
Believe everything happens for a reason.
If you get a chance,take it & if it changes your life, let it.
Nobody said life would be easy, they just promised it would most likely be worth it."
ENJOY LIFE NOW - IT HAS AN EXPIRATION DATE !
Told by their son who was
President of NBC NEWS.
This is a wonderful piece by Michael Gartner, editor of newspapers large and small and president of NBC News. In 1997, he won the Pulitzer Prize for editorial writing. It is well worth reading, and a few good chuckles are guaranteed. Here goes...
My father never drove a car. Well, that's not quite right. I should say I never saw him drive a car.
He quit driving in 1927, when he was 25 years old, and the last car he drove was a 1926 Whippet.
"In those days," he told me when he was in his 90s, "to drive a car you had to do things with your hands, and do things with your feet, and look every which way, and I decided you could walk through life and enjoy it or drive through life and miss it."
At which point my mother, a sometimes salty Irishwoman, chimed in: "Oh, bull shit!" she said. "He hit a horse."
"Well," my father said, "there was that, too."
So my brother and I grew up in a household without a car. The neighbors all had cars -- the Kollingses next door had a green 1941 Dodge, the VanLaninghams across the street a gray 1936 Plymouth, the Hopsons two doors down a black 1941 Ford -- but we had none.
My father, a newspaperman in Des Moines, would take the streetcar to work and, often as not, walk the 3 miles home. If he took the streetcar home, my mother and brother and I would walk the three blocks to the streetcar stop, meet him and walk home together.
My brother, David, was born in 1935, and I was born in 1938, and sometimes, at dinner, we'd ask how come all the neighbors had cars but we had none. "No one in the family drives," my mother would explain, and that was that.
But, sometimes, my father would say, "But as soon as one of you boys turns 16, we'll get one." It was as if he wasn't sure which one of us would turn 16 first.
But, sure enough, my brother turned 16 before I did, so in 1951 my parents bought a used 1950 Chevrolet from a friend who ran the parts department at a Chevy dealership downtown.
It was a four-door, white model, stick shift, fender skirts, loaded with everything, and, since my parents didn't drive, it more or less became my brother's car.
Having a car but not being able to drive didn't bother my father, but it didn't make sense to my mother.
So in 1952, when she was 43 years old, she asked a friend to teach her to drive. She learned in a nearby cemetery, the place where I learned to drive the following year and where, a generation later, I took my two sons to practice driving. The cemetery probably was my father's idea. "Who can your mother hurt in the cemetery?" I remember him saying more than once.
For the next 45 years or so, until she was 90, my mother was the driver in the family. Neither she nor my father had any sense of direction, but he loaded up on maps -- though they seldom left the city limits -- and appointed himself navigator. It seemed to work.
Still, they both continued to walk a lot. My mother was a devout Catholic, and my father an equally devout agnostic, an arrangement that didn't seem to bother either of them through their 75 years of marriage.
(Yes, 75 years, and they were deeply in love the entire time.)
He retired when he was 70, and nearly every morning for the next 20 years or so, he would walk with her the mile to St. Augustin's Church.
She would walk down and sit in the front pew, and he would wait in the back until he saw which of the parish's two priests was on duty that morning. If it was the pastor, my father then would go out and take a 2-mile walk, meeting my mother at the end of the service and walking her home.
If it was the assistant pastor, he'd take just a 1-mile walk and then head back to the church. He called the priests "Father Fast" and "Father Slow."
After he retired, my father almost always accompanied my mother whenever she drove anywhere, even if he had no reason to go along. If she were going to the beauty parlor, he'd sit in the car and read, or go take a stroll or, if it was summer, have her keep the engine running so he could listen to the Cubs game on the radio. In the evening, then, when I'd stop by, he'd explain: "The Cubs lost again. The millionaire on second base made a bad throw to the millionaire on first base, so the multimillionaire on third base scored."
If she were going to the grocery store, he would go along to carry the bags out -- and to make sure she loaded up on ice cream. As I said, he was always the navigator, and once, when he was 95 and she was 88 and still driving, he said to me, "Do you want to know the secret of a long life?"
"I guess so," I said, knowing it probably would be something bizarre.
"No left turns," he said.
"What?" I asked.
"No left turns," he repeated. "Several years ago, your mother and I read an article that said most accidents that old people are in happen when they turn left in front of oncoming traffic.
As you get older, your eyesight worsens, and you can lose your depth perception, it said. So your mother and I decided never again to make a left turn."
"What?" I said again.
"No left turns," he said. "Think about it.. Three rights are the same as a left, and that's a lot safer. So we always make three rights."
"You're kidding!" I said, and I turned to my mother for support.
"No," she said, "your father is right. We make three rights. It works."
But then she added: "Except when your father loses count."
I was driving at the time, and I almost drove off the road as I started laughing.
"Loses count?" I asked.
"Yes," my father admitted, "that sometimes happens. But it's not a problem. You just make seven rights, and you're okay again."
I couldn't resist. "Do you ever go for 11?" I asked.
"No," he said. "If we miss it at seven, we just come home and call it a bad day. Besides, nothing in life is so important it can't be put off another day or another week."
My mother was never in an accident, but one evening she handed me her car keys and said she had decided to quit driving. That was in 1999, when she was 90.
She lived four more years, until 2003. My father died the next year, at 102.
They both died in the bungalow they had moved into in 1937 and bought a few years later for $3,000. (Sixty years later, my brother and I paid $8,000 to have a shower put in the tiny bathroom -- the house had never had one. My father would have died then and there if he knew the shower cost nearly three times what he paid for the house.)
He continued to walk daily -- he had me get him a treadmill when he was 101 because he was afraid he'd fall on the icy sidewalks but wanted to keep exercising -- and he was of sound mind and sound body until the moment he died.
One September afternoon in 2004, he and my son went with me when I had to give a talk in a neighboring town, and it was clear to all three of us that he was wearing out, though we had the usual wide-ranging conversation about politics and newspapers and things in the news.
A few weeks earlier, he had told my son, "You know, Mike, the first hundred years are a lot easier than the second hundred." At one point in our drive that Saturday, he said, "You know, I'm probably not going to live much longer."
"You're probably right," I said.
"Why would you say that?" He countered, somewhat irritated.
"Because you're 102 years old," I said..
"Yes," he said, "you're right." He stayed in bed all the next day.
That night, I suggested to my son and daughter that we sit up with him through the night.
He appreciated it, he said, though at one point, apparently seeing us look gloomy, he said:
"I would like to make an announcement. No one in this room is dead yet"
An hour or so later, he spoke his last words:
"I want you to know," he said, clearly and lucidly, "that I am in no pain. I am very comfortable. And I have had as happy a life as anyone on this earth could ever have."
A short time later, he died.
I miss him a lot, and I think about him a lot. I've wondered now and then how it was that my family and I were so lucky that he lived so long.
I can't figure out if it was because he walked through life,
Or because he quit taking left turns.
Life is too short to wake up with regrets.
So love the people who treat you right.
Forget about the one's who don't.
Believe everything happens for a reason.
If you get a chance,take it & if it changes your life, let it.
Nobody said life would be easy, they just promised it would most likely be worth it."
ENJOY LIFE NOW - IT HAS AN EXPIRATION DATE !
Wonderful Church Bulletins!
They're Back! Those wonderful Church Bulletins! Thank God for less than perfect church lady typists with old fashion typewriters. These sentences (with all the BLOOPERS) actually appeared in church bulletins or were announced in church services:
***:
The Fasting & Prayer Conference includes meals.
--------------------------
The sermon this morning: Jesus Walks on the Water.' The sermon tonight: searching for Jesus.'
--------------------------
Ladies, don't forget the rummage sale. It's a chance to get rid of those things not worth keeping around the house. Bring your husbands.
--------------------------
Remember in prayer the many who are sick of our community. Smile at someone who is hard to love. Say 'Hell' to someone who doesn't care much about you.
--------------------------
Don't let worry kill you off - let the Church help.
--------------------------
Miss Charlene Mason sang 'I will not pass this way again,' giving obvious pleasure to the congregation.
--------------------------
For those of you who have children and don't know it, we have a nursery downstairs.
--------------------------
Next Thursday there will be tryouts for the choir. They need all the help they can get.
--------------------------
Irving Benson and Jessie Carter were married on October 24 in the church. So ends a friendship that began in their school days.
--------------------------
A bean supper will be held on Tuesday evening in the church hall. Music will follow..
--------------------------
At the evening service tonight, the sermon topic will be 'What Is Hell?' Come early and listen to our choir practice.
--------------------------
Eight new choir robes are currently needed due to the addition of several new members and to the deterioration of some older ones.
--------------------------
Scouts are saving aluminum cans, bottles and other items to be recycled. Proceeds will be used to cripple children.
--------------------------
Please place your donation in the envelope along with the deceased person you want remembered..
--------------------------
The church will host an evening of fine dining, super entertainment and gracious hostility.
--------------------------
Potluck supper Sunday at 5:00 PM - prayer and medication to follow.
--------------------------
The ladies of the Church have cast off clothing of every kind. They may be seen in the basement on Friday afternoon.
--------------------------
This evening at 7 PM there will be a hymn singing in the park across from the Church. Bring a blanket and come prepared to sin.
--------------------------
Ladies Bible Study will be held Thursday morning at 10 AM . All ladies are invited to lunch in the Fellowship Hall after the B. S. Is done.
--------------------------
The pastor would appreciate it if the ladies of the Congregation would lend him their electric girdles for the pancake breakfast next Sunday.
--------------------------
Low Self Esteem Support Group will meet Thursday at 7 PM . Please use the back door.
--------------------------
The eighth-graders will be presenting Shakespeare's Hamlet in the Church basement Friday at 7 PM . The congregation is invited to attend this tragedy.
--------------------------
Weight Watchers will meet at 7 PM at the First Presbyterian Church Please use large double door at the side entrance.
--------------------------
The Associate Minister unveiled the church's new campaign slogan last Sunday: 'I Upped My Pledge - Up Yours.
***:
The Fasting & Prayer Conference includes meals.
--------------------------
The sermon this morning: Jesus Walks on the Water.' The sermon tonight: searching for Jesus.'
--------------------------
Ladies, don't forget the rummage sale. It's a chance to get rid of those things not worth keeping around the house. Bring your husbands.
--------------------------
Remember in prayer the many who are sick of our community. Smile at someone who is hard to love. Say 'Hell' to someone who doesn't care much about you.
--------------------------
Don't let worry kill you off - let the Church help.
--------------------------
Miss Charlene Mason sang 'I will not pass this way again,' giving obvious pleasure to the congregation.
--------------------------
For those of you who have children and don't know it, we have a nursery downstairs.
--------------------------
Next Thursday there will be tryouts for the choir. They need all the help they can get.
--------------------------
Irving Benson and Jessie Carter were married on October 24 in the church. So ends a friendship that began in their school days.
--------------------------
A bean supper will be held on Tuesday evening in the church hall. Music will follow..
--------------------------
At the evening service tonight, the sermon topic will be 'What Is Hell?' Come early and listen to our choir practice.
--------------------------
Eight new choir robes are currently needed due to the addition of several new members and to the deterioration of some older ones.
--------------------------
Scouts are saving aluminum cans, bottles and other items to be recycled. Proceeds will be used to cripple children.
--------------------------
Please place your donation in the envelope along with the deceased person you want remembered..
--------------------------
The church will host an evening of fine dining, super entertainment and gracious hostility.
--------------------------
Potluck supper Sunday at 5:00 PM - prayer and medication to follow.
--------------------------
The ladies of the Church have cast off clothing of every kind. They may be seen in the basement on Friday afternoon.
--------------------------
This evening at 7 PM there will be a hymn singing in the park across from the Church. Bring a blanket and come prepared to sin.
--------------------------
Ladies Bible Study will be held Thursday morning at 10 AM . All ladies are invited to lunch in the Fellowship Hall after the B. S. Is done.
--------------------------
The pastor would appreciate it if the ladies of the Congregation would lend him their electric girdles for the pancake breakfast next Sunday.
--------------------------
Low Self Esteem Support Group will meet Thursday at 7 PM . Please use the back door.
--------------------------
The eighth-graders will be presenting Shakespeare's Hamlet in the Church basement Friday at 7 PM . The congregation is invited to attend this tragedy.
--------------------------
Weight Watchers will meet at 7 PM at the First Presbyterian Church Please use large double door at the side entrance.
--------------------------
The Associate Minister unveiled the church's new campaign slogan last Sunday: 'I Upped My Pledge - Up Yours.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Christmas Story
ACTS 4:12 Neither is there salvation in any other: for there is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved.
The word Christmas has a wonderful spelling…………read to the end and have yourself a Merry Christmas.
The "W" in Christmas
Each December, I vowed to make Christmas a calm and peaceful experience.
I had cut back on nonessential obligations - extensive card writing,
endless baking, decorating, and even overspending.
Yet still, I found myself exhausted, unable to appreciate the
precious family moments, and of course, the true meaning of
Christmas.
My son, Nicholas, was in kindergarten that year. It was an exciting
season for a six year old.
For weeks, he'd been memorizing songs for his school's "Winter Pageant."
I didn't have the heart to tell him I'd be working the night of the
production. Unwilling to miss his shining moment, I spoke with his
teacher. She assured me there'd be a dress rehearsal the morning of the
presentation.
All parents unable to attend that evening were welcome to come then.
Fortunately, Nicholas seemed happy with the compromise.
So, the morning of the dress rehearsal, I filed in ten minutes
early, found a spot on the cafeteria floor and sat down. Around the room, I saw several other parents quietly scampering to their seats.
As I waited, the students were led into the room. Each class, accompanied by their teacher, sat cross-legged on the floor. Then, each group, one by one, rose to perform their song.
Because the public school system had long stopped referring to the
holiday as "Christmas," I didn't expect anything other than fun, commercial entertainment songs of reindeer, Santa Claus, snowflakes and good cheer.
So, when my son's class rose to sing, "Christmas Love," I was slightly taken aback by its bold title.
Nicholas was aglow, as were all of his classmates, adorned in fuzzy mittens, red sweaters, and bright snowcaps upon their heads.
Those in the front row- center stage - held up large letters, one by one, to spell out the title of the song.
As the class would sing "C is for Christmas," a child would hold up the
letter C. Then, "H is for Happy," and on and on, until each child holding up his portion had presented the complete message, "Christmas Love."
The performance was going smoothly, until suddenly, we noticed her; a
small, quiet, girl in the front row holding the letter "M" upside down - totally unaware her letter "M" appeared as a "W".
The audience of 1st through 6th graders snickered at this little one's mistake. But she had no idea they were laughing at her, so she stood tall, proudly holding her "W".
Although many teachers tried to shush the children, the laughter continued until the last letter was raised, and we all saw it together.
A hush came over the audience and eyes began to widen.
In that instant, we understood the reason we were there, why we celebrated the holiday in the first place, why even in the chaos, there was a purpose for our festivities.
For when the last letter was held high, the message read loud and clear:
"C H R I S T W A S L O V E"
And, I believe, He still is.
Amazed in His presence... .humbled by His love.
Again, HAVE A BLESSED CHRISTMAS SEASON!
The word Christmas has a wonderful spelling…………read to the end and have yourself a Merry Christmas.
The "W" in Christmas
Each December, I vowed to make Christmas a calm and peaceful experience.
I had cut back on nonessential obligations - extensive card writing,
endless baking, decorating, and even overspending.
Yet still, I found myself exhausted, unable to appreciate the
precious family moments, and of course, the true meaning of
Christmas.
My son, Nicholas, was in kindergarten that year. It was an exciting
season for a six year old.
For weeks, he'd been memorizing songs for his school's "Winter Pageant."
I didn't have the heart to tell him I'd be working the night of the
production. Unwilling to miss his shining moment, I spoke with his
teacher. She assured me there'd be a dress rehearsal the morning of the
presentation.
All parents unable to attend that evening were welcome to come then.
Fortunately, Nicholas seemed happy with the compromise.
So, the morning of the dress rehearsal, I filed in ten minutes
early, found a spot on the cafeteria floor and sat down. Around the room, I saw several other parents quietly scampering to their seats.
As I waited, the students were led into the room. Each class, accompanied by their teacher, sat cross-legged on the floor. Then, each group, one by one, rose to perform their song.
Because the public school system had long stopped referring to the
holiday as "Christmas," I didn't expect anything other than fun, commercial entertainment songs of reindeer, Santa Claus, snowflakes and good cheer.
So, when my son's class rose to sing, "Christmas Love," I was slightly taken aback by its bold title.
Nicholas was aglow, as were all of his classmates, adorned in fuzzy mittens, red sweaters, and bright snowcaps upon their heads.
Those in the front row- center stage - held up large letters, one by one, to spell out the title of the song.
As the class would sing "C is for Christmas," a child would hold up the
letter C. Then, "H is for Happy," and on and on, until each child holding up his portion had presented the complete message, "Christmas Love."
The performance was going smoothly, until suddenly, we noticed her; a
small, quiet, girl in the front row holding the letter "M" upside down - totally unaware her letter "M" appeared as a "W".
The audience of 1st through 6th graders snickered at this little one's mistake. But she had no idea they were laughing at her, so she stood tall, proudly holding her "W".
Although many teachers tried to shush the children, the laughter continued until the last letter was raised, and we all saw it together.
A hush came over the audience and eyes began to widen.
In that instant, we understood the reason we were there, why we celebrated the holiday in the first place, why even in the chaos, there was a purpose for our festivities.
For when the last letter was held high, the message read loud and clear:
"C H R I S T W A S L O V E"
And, I believe, He still is.
Amazed in His presence... .humbled by His love.
Again, HAVE A BLESSED CHRISTMAS SEASON!
Monday, December 12, 2011
Christmas Poem
TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS,
HE LIVED ALL ALONE,
IN A ONE BEDROOM HOUSE MADE OF
PLASTER AND STONE.
I HAD COME DOWN THE CHIMNEY
WITH PRESENTS TO GIVE,
AND TO SEE JUST WHO
IN THIS HOME DID LIVE.
I LOOKED ALL ABOUT,
A STRANGE SIGHT I DID SEE,
NO TINSEL, NO PRESENTS,
NOT EVEN A TREE.
NO STOCKING BY THE MANTLE,
JUST BOOTS FILLED WITH SAND,
ON THE WALL HUNG PICTURES
OF FAR DISTANT LANDS.
WITH MEDALS AND BADGES,
AWARDS OF ALL KINDS,
A SOBER THOUGHT
CAME THROUGH MY MIND.
FOR THIS HOUSE WAS DIFFERENT,
IT WAS DARK AND DREARY,
I FOUND THE HOME OF A SOLDIER,
ONCE I COULD SEE CLEARLY.
THE SOLDIER LAY SLEEPING,
SILENT, ALONE,
CURLED UP ON THE FLOOR
IN THIS ONE BEDROOM HOME.
THE FACE WAS SO GENTLE,
THE ROOM IN SUCH DISORDER,
NOT HOW I PICTURED
A UNITED STATES SOLDIER.
WAS THIS THE HERO
OF WHOM I'D JUST READ?
CURLED UP ON A PONCHO,
THE FLOOR FOR A BED?
I REALIZED THE FAMILIES
THAT I SAW THIS NIGHT,
OWED THEIR LIVES TO THESE SOLDIERS
WHO WERE WILLING TO FIGHT.
SOON ROUND THE WORLD,
THE CHILDREN WOULD PLAY,
AND GROWNUPS WOULD CELEBRATE
A BRIGHT CHRISTMAS DAY.
THEY ALL ENJOYED FREEDOM
EACH MONTH OF THE YEAR,
BECAUSE OF THE SOLDIERS,
LIKE THE ONE LYING HERE.
I COULDN'T HELP WONDER
HOW MANY LAY ALONE,
ON A COLD CHRISTMAS EVE
IN A LAND FAR FROM HOME.
THE VERY THOUGHT
BROUGHT A TEAR TO MY EYE,
I DROPPED TO MY KNEES
AND STARTED TO CRY.
THE SOLDIER AWAKENED
AND I HEARD A ROUGH VOICE,
'SANTA DON'T CRY,
THIS LIFE IS MY CHOICE;
I FIGHT FOR FREEDOM,
I DON'T ASK FOR MORE,
MY LIFE IS MY GOD,
MY COUNTRY, MY CORPS.'
THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER
AND DRIFTED TO SLEEP,
I COULDN'T CONTROL IT,
I CONTINUED TO WEEP.
I KEPT WATCH FOR HOURS,
SO SILENT AND STILL
AND WE BOTH SHIVERED
FROM THE COLD NIGHT'S CHILL.
I DIDN'T WANT TO LEAVE
ON THAT COLD, DARK, NIGHT,
THIS GUARDIAN OF HONOR
SO WILLING TO FIGHT.
THEN THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER,
WITH A VOICE SOFT AND PURE,
WHISPERED, 'CARRY ON SANTA,
IT'S CHRISTMAS DAY, ALL IS SECURE.'
ONE LOOK AT MY WATCH,
AND I KNEW HE WAS RIGHT.
'MERRY CHRISTMAS MY FRIEND,!
AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT.'
This poem was written by a Marine. The following is his request. I
think it is reasonable.....
Would you do me the kind favor of sending this to as many
people as you can? Christmas will be coming soon and some credit is due
to our U.S. service men,women, and Canadian Forces for our being able
to celebrate these festivities.
HE LIVED ALL ALONE,
IN A ONE BEDROOM HOUSE MADE OF
PLASTER AND STONE.
I HAD COME DOWN THE CHIMNEY
WITH PRESENTS TO GIVE,
AND TO SEE JUST WHO
IN THIS HOME DID LIVE.
I LOOKED ALL ABOUT,
A STRANGE SIGHT I DID SEE,
NO TINSEL, NO PRESENTS,
NOT EVEN A TREE.
NO STOCKING BY THE MANTLE,
JUST BOOTS FILLED WITH SAND,
ON THE WALL HUNG PICTURES
OF FAR DISTANT LANDS.
WITH MEDALS AND BADGES,
AWARDS OF ALL KINDS,
A SOBER THOUGHT
CAME THROUGH MY MIND.
FOR THIS HOUSE WAS DIFFERENT,
IT WAS DARK AND DREARY,
I FOUND THE HOME OF A SOLDIER,
ONCE I COULD SEE CLEARLY.
THE SOLDIER LAY SLEEPING,
SILENT, ALONE,
CURLED UP ON THE FLOOR
IN THIS ONE BEDROOM HOME.
THE FACE WAS SO GENTLE,
THE ROOM IN SUCH DISORDER,
NOT HOW I PICTURED
A UNITED STATES SOLDIER.
WAS THIS THE HERO
OF WHOM I'D JUST READ?
CURLED UP ON A PONCHO,
THE FLOOR FOR A BED?
I REALIZED THE FAMILIES
THAT I SAW THIS NIGHT,
OWED THEIR LIVES TO THESE SOLDIERS
WHO WERE WILLING TO FIGHT.
SOON ROUND THE WORLD,
THE CHILDREN WOULD PLAY,
AND GROWNUPS WOULD CELEBRATE
A BRIGHT CHRISTMAS DAY.
THEY ALL ENJOYED FREEDOM
EACH MONTH OF THE YEAR,
BECAUSE OF THE SOLDIERS,
LIKE THE ONE LYING HERE.
I COULDN'T HELP WONDER
HOW MANY LAY ALONE,
ON A COLD CHRISTMAS EVE
IN A LAND FAR FROM HOME.
THE VERY THOUGHT
BROUGHT A TEAR TO MY EYE,
I DROPPED TO MY KNEES
AND STARTED TO CRY.
THE SOLDIER AWAKENED
AND I HEARD A ROUGH VOICE,
'SANTA DON'T CRY,
THIS LIFE IS MY CHOICE;
I FIGHT FOR FREEDOM,
I DON'T ASK FOR MORE,
MY LIFE IS MY GOD,
MY COUNTRY, MY CORPS.'
THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER
AND DRIFTED TO SLEEP,
I COULDN'T CONTROL IT,
I CONTINUED TO WEEP.
I KEPT WATCH FOR HOURS,
SO SILENT AND STILL
AND WE BOTH SHIVERED
FROM THE COLD NIGHT'S CHILL.
I DIDN'T WANT TO LEAVE
ON THAT COLD, DARK, NIGHT,
THIS GUARDIAN OF HONOR
SO WILLING TO FIGHT.
THEN THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER,
WITH A VOICE SOFT AND PURE,
WHISPERED, 'CARRY ON SANTA,
IT'S CHRISTMAS DAY, ALL IS SECURE.'
ONE LOOK AT MY WATCH,
AND I KNEW HE WAS RIGHT.
'MERRY CHRISTMAS MY FRIEND,!
AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT.'
This poem was written by a Marine. The following is his request. I
think it is reasonable.....
Would you do me the kind favor of sending this to as many
people as you can? Christmas will be coming soon and some credit is due
to our U.S. service men,women, and Canadian Forces for our being able
to celebrate these festivities.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Friday, December 2, 2011
Highway 109 Angel
Highway 109 Angel
A drunk man in an Oldsmobile
They said had run the light
That caused the six-car pileup
On 109 that night.
When broken bodies lay about
And blood was everywhere,
The sirens screamed out eulogies,
For death was in the air.
A mother, trapped inside her car,
Was heard above the noise;
Her plaintive plea near split the air:
Oh, God, please spare my boys!
She fought to loosen her pinned hands;
She struggled to get free,
But mangled metal held her fast
In grim captivity.
Her frightened eyes then focused
On where the back seat once had been,
But all she saw was broken glass and
Two children's seats crushed in.
Her twins were nowhere to be seen;
She did not hear them cry,
And then she prayed they'd been thrown free,
Oh, God, don't let them die!
Then firemen came and cut her loose,
But when they searched the back,
They found therein no little boys,
But the seat belts were intact.
They thought the woman had gone mad
And was traveling alone,
But when they turned to question her,
They discovered she was gone.
Policemen saw her running wild
And screaming above the noise
In beseeching supplication,
Please help me find my boys!
They're four years old and wear blue shirts;
Their jeans are blue to match.
One cop spoke up, They're in my car,
And they don't have a scratch.
They said their daddy put them there
And gave them each a cone,
Then told them both to wait for Mom
To come and take them home.
I've searched the area high and low,
But I can't find their dad.
He must have fled the scene,
I guess, and that is very bad.
The mother hugged the twins and said,
While wiping at a tear,
He could not flee the scene, you see,
For he's been dead a year.
The cop just looked confused and asked,
Now, how can that be true?
The boys said, Mommy, Daddy came
And left a kiss for you.
He told us not to worry
And that you would be all right,
And then he put us in this car with
The pretty, flashing light.
We wanted him to stay with us,
Because we miss him so,
But Mommy, he just hugged us tight
And said he had to go.
He said someday we'd understand
And told us not to fuss,
And he said to tell you, Mommy,
He's watching over us.
The mother knew without a doubt
That what they spoke was true,
For she recalled their dad's last words,
I will watch over you.
The firemen's notes could not explain
The twisted, mangled car,
And how the three of them escaped
Without a single scar
But on the cop's report was scribed,
In print so very fine,
An angel walked the beat tonight on Highway 109.
A drunk man in an Oldsmobile
They said had run the light
That caused the six-car pileup
On 109 that night.
When broken bodies lay about
And blood was everywhere,
The sirens screamed out eulogies,
For death was in the air.
A mother, trapped inside her car,
Was heard above the noise;
Her plaintive plea near split the air:
Oh, God, please spare my boys!
She fought to loosen her pinned hands;
She struggled to get free,
But mangled metal held her fast
In grim captivity.
Her frightened eyes then focused
On where the back seat once had been,
But all she saw was broken glass and
Two children's seats crushed in.
Her twins were nowhere to be seen;
She did not hear them cry,
And then she prayed they'd been thrown free,
Oh, God, don't let them die!
Then firemen came and cut her loose,
But when they searched the back,
They found therein no little boys,
But the seat belts were intact.
They thought the woman had gone mad
And was traveling alone,
But when they turned to question her,
They discovered she was gone.
Policemen saw her running wild
And screaming above the noise
In beseeching supplication,
Please help me find my boys!
They're four years old and wear blue shirts;
Their jeans are blue to match.
One cop spoke up, They're in my car,
And they don't have a scratch.
They said their daddy put them there
And gave them each a cone,
Then told them both to wait for Mom
To come and take them home.
I've searched the area high and low,
But I can't find their dad.
He must have fled the scene,
I guess, and that is very bad.
The mother hugged the twins and said,
While wiping at a tear,
He could not flee the scene, you see,
For he's been dead a year.
The cop just looked confused and asked,
Now, how can that be true?
The boys said, Mommy, Daddy came
And left a kiss for you.
He told us not to worry
And that you would be all right,
And then he put us in this car with
The pretty, flashing light.
We wanted him to stay with us,
Because we miss him so,
But Mommy, he just hugged us tight
And said he had to go.
He said someday we'd understand
And told us not to fuss,
And he said to tell you, Mommy,
He's watching over us.
The mother knew without a doubt
That what they spoke was true,
For she recalled their dad's last words,
I will watch over you.
The firemen's notes could not explain
The twisted, mangled car,
And how the three of them escaped
Without a single scar
But on the cop's report was scribed,
In print so very fine,
An angel walked the beat tonight on Highway 109.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Just For Pun
1. The fattest knight at King Arthur's round table was Sir Cumference. He acquired his size from too much pi.
2. I thought I saw an eye doctor on an Alaskan island, but it turned out to be an optical Aleutian.
3. She was only a whiskey maker, but he loved her still.
4. A rubber band pistol was confiscated from algebra class, because it was a weapon of math disruption.
5. No matter how much you push the envelope, it'll still be stationery.
6. A dog gave birth to puppies near the road and was cited for littering.
7. A grenade thrown in to a kitchen in France would result in Linoleum Blownapart.
8. Two silk worms had a race. They ended up in a tie.
9. A hole has been found in the nudist camp wall. The police are looking into it.
10. Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana.
11. Atheism is a non-prophet organization.
12. Two hats were hanging on a hat rack in the hallway. One hat said to the other: “You stay here; I'll go on a head.”
13. I wondered why the baseball kept getting bigger. Then it hit me.
14. A sign on the lawn at a drug rehab center said: “Keep off the Grass.”
15. The midget fortune-teller who escaped from prison was a small medium at large.
16. The soldier who survived mustard gas and pepper spray is now a seasoned veteran.
17. A backward poet writes inverse.
18. In a democracy it's your vote that counts. In feudalism it's your count that votes.
19. If you jumped off the bridge in Paris , you'd be in Seine .
20. A vulture boards an airplane, carrying two dead raccoons. The flight attendant looks at him and says, “I'm sorry, sir, only one carrion allowed per passenger.”
21. Two fish swim into a concrete wall. One turns to the other and says “Dam!”
22. Two Eskimos sitting in a kayak were chilly, so they lit a fire in the craft. Unsurprisingly it sank, proving once again that you can't have your kayak and heat it too.
23. Two hydrogen atoms meet. One says, “I've lost my electron.” The other says “Are you sure?” The first replies, “Yes, I'm positive.”
24. Did you hear about the Buddhist who refused Novocain during a root canal? His goal: transcend dental medication.
25. There was the person who sent ten puns to friends, with the hope that at least one of the puns would make them laugh. No pun in ten did.
2. I thought I saw an eye doctor on an Alaskan island, but it turned out to be an optical Aleutian.
3. She was only a whiskey maker, but he loved her still.
4. A rubber band pistol was confiscated from algebra class, because it was a weapon of math disruption.
5. No matter how much you push the envelope, it'll still be stationery.
6. A dog gave birth to puppies near the road and was cited for littering.
7. A grenade thrown in to a kitchen in France would result in Linoleum Blownapart.
8. Two silk worms had a race. They ended up in a tie.
9. A hole has been found in the nudist camp wall. The police are looking into it.
10. Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana.
11. Atheism is a non-prophet organization.
12. Two hats were hanging on a hat rack in the hallway. One hat said to the other: “You stay here; I'll go on a head.”
13. I wondered why the baseball kept getting bigger. Then it hit me.
14. A sign on the lawn at a drug rehab center said: “Keep off the Grass.”
15. The midget fortune-teller who escaped from prison was a small medium at large.
16. The soldier who survived mustard gas and pepper spray is now a seasoned veteran.
17. A backward poet writes inverse.
18. In a democracy it's your vote that counts. In feudalism it's your count that votes.
19. If you jumped off the bridge in Paris , you'd be in Seine .
20. A vulture boards an airplane, carrying two dead raccoons. The flight attendant looks at him and says, “I'm sorry, sir, only one carrion allowed per passenger.”
21. Two fish swim into a concrete wall. One turns to the other and says “Dam!”
22. Two Eskimos sitting in a kayak were chilly, so they lit a fire in the craft. Unsurprisingly it sank, proving once again that you can't have your kayak and heat it too.
23. Two hydrogen atoms meet. One says, “I've lost my electron.” The other says “Are you sure?” The first replies, “Yes, I'm positive.”
24. Did you hear about the Buddhist who refused Novocain during a root canal? His goal: transcend dental medication.
25. There was the person who sent ten puns to friends, with the hope that at least one of the puns would make them laugh. No pun in ten did.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Amazing Grace
Amazing Grace, by Wintley Phipps
At Carnegie Hall, gospel singer Wintley Phipps delivers perhaps the most powerful rendition of Amazing Grace ever recorded. He says, "A lot of people don't realize that just about all Negro spirituals are written on the black notes of the piano. Probably the most famous on this slave scale was written by John Newton, who used to be the captain of a slave ship, and many believe he heard this melody that sounds very much like a West African sorrow chant. And it has a haunting, haunting plaintive quality to it that reaches past your arrogance, past your pride, and it speaks to that part of you that's in bondage. And we feel it. We feel it. It's just one of the most amazing melodies in all of human history." After sharing the noteworthy history of the song, Mr. Phipps delivers a stirring performance that brings the audience to its feet!
At Carnegie Hall, gospel singer Wintley Phipps delivers perhaps the most powerful rendition of Amazing Grace ever recorded. He says, "A lot of people don't realize that just about all Negro spirituals are written on the black notes of the piano. Probably the most famous on this slave scale was written by John Newton, who used to be the captain of a slave ship, and many believe he heard this melody that sounds very much like a West African sorrow chant. And it has a haunting, haunting plaintive quality to it that reaches past your arrogance, past your pride, and it speaks to that part of you that's in bondage. And we feel it. We feel it. It's just one of the most amazing melodies in all of human history." After sharing the noteworthy history of the song, Mr. Phipps delivers a stirring performance that brings the audience to its feet!
Monday, November 21, 2011
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Never Choke in a Restaurant in the South!
Two hillbillies walk into a restaurant. While having a bite to eat, they talk about their moonshine operation.
Suddenly, a woman at a nearby table, who is eating a sandwich, begins to cough. After a minute or so, it becomes apparent that she is in real distress.
One of the hillbillies looks at her and says, 'Kin ya swallar?'
The woman shakes her head no. Then he asks,'Kin ya breathe?'The woman begins to turn blue and shakes her head no.
The hillbilly walks over to the woman, lifts up her dress, yanks down her drawers and quickly gives her right butt cheek a lick with his tongue.
The woman is so shocked that she has a violent spasm and the obstruction flies out of her mouth.As she begins to breathe again, the Hillbilly walks slowly back to his table.
His partner says, 'Ya know, I'd heerd of that there 'Hind Lick Maneuver' but I ain't niver seed nobody do it!'
Suddenly, a woman at a nearby table, who is eating a sandwich, begins to cough. After a minute or so, it becomes apparent that she is in real distress.
One of the hillbillies looks at her and says, 'Kin ya swallar?'
The woman shakes her head no. Then he asks,'Kin ya breathe?'The woman begins to turn blue and shakes her head no.
The hillbilly walks over to the woman, lifts up her dress, yanks down her drawers and quickly gives her right butt cheek a lick with his tongue.
The woman is so shocked that she has a violent spasm and the obstruction flies out of her mouth.As she begins to breathe again, the Hillbilly walks slowly back to his table.
His partner says, 'Ya know, I'd heerd of that there 'Hind Lick Maneuver' but I ain't niver seed nobody do it!'
Church Ladies With Typewriters
Church Ladies With Typewriters
They're Back! Those wonderful Church Bulletins! Thank goodness for church ladies with typewriters. These sentences (with all the BLOOPERS) actually appeared in church bulletins or were announced in church services:
The Fasting & Prayer Conference includes meals.
--------------------------
The sermon this morning: 'Jesus Walks on the Water.' The sermon tonight: 'Searching for Jesus.'
--------------------------
Ladies, don't forget the rummage sale. It's a chance to get rid of those things not worth keeping around the house. Bring your husbands.
--------------------------
Remember in prayer the many who are sick of our community. Smile at someone who is hard to love. Say 'Hell' to someone who doesn't care much about you.
--------------------------
Don't let worry kill you off - let the Church help.
--------------------------
Miss Charlene Mason sang 'I will not pass this way again,' giving obvious pleasure to the congregation.
--------------------------
For those of you who have children and don't know it, we have a nursery downstairs.
--------------------------
Next Thursday there will be tryouts for the choir. They need all the help they can get.
--------------------------
Irving Benson and Jessie Carter were married on October 24 in the church. So ends a friendship that began in their school days.
--------------------------
A bean supper will be held on Tuesday evening in the church hall. Music will follow..
--------------------------
At the evening service tonight, the sermon topic will be 'What Is Hell?' Come early and listen to our choir practice.
--------------------------
Eight new choir robes are currently needed due to the addition of several new members and to the deterioration of some older ones.
--------------------------
Scouts are saving aluminum cans, bottles and other items to be recycled. Proceeds will be used to cripple children.
--------------------------
Please place your donation in the envelope along with the deceased person you want remembered..
--------------------------
The church will host an evening of fine dining, super entertainment and gracious hostility.
--------------------------
Potluck supper Sunday at 5:00 PM - prayer and medication to follow.
--------------------------
The ladies of the Church have cast off clothing of every kind. They may be seen in the basement on Friday afternoon.
--------------------------
This evening at 7 PM there will be a hymn singing in the park across from the Church. Bring a blanket and come prepared to sin.
--------------------------
Ladies Bible Study will be held Thursday morning at 10 AM . All ladies are invited to lunch in the Fellowship Hall after the B. S. Is done.
--------------------------
The pastor would appreciate it if the ladies of the Congregation would lend him their electric girdles for the pancake breakfast next Sunday.
--------------------------
Low Self Esteem Support Group will meet Thursday at 7 PM . Please use the back door.
--------------------------
The eighth-graders will be presenting Shakespeare's Hamlet in the Church basement Friday at 7 PM . The congregation is invited to attend this tragedy.
--------------------------
Weight Watchers will meet at 7 PM at the First Presbyterian Church Please use large double door at the side entrance.
--------------------------
The Associate Minister unveiled the church's new campaign slogan last Sunday: 'I Upped My Pledge - Up Yours.
They're Back! Those wonderful Church Bulletins! Thank goodness for church ladies with typewriters. These sentences (with all the BLOOPERS) actually appeared in church bulletins or were announced in church services:
The Fasting & Prayer Conference includes meals.
--------------------------
The sermon this morning: 'Jesus Walks on the Water.' The sermon tonight: 'Searching for Jesus.'
--------------------------
Ladies, don't forget the rummage sale. It's a chance to get rid of those things not worth keeping around the house. Bring your husbands.
--------------------------
Remember in prayer the many who are sick of our community. Smile at someone who is hard to love. Say 'Hell' to someone who doesn't care much about you.
--------------------------
Don't let worry kill you off - let the Church help.
--------------------------
Miss Charlene Mason sang 'I will not pass this way again,' giving obvious pleasure to the congregation.
--------------------------
For those of you who have children and don't know it, we have a nursery downstairs.
--------------------------
Next Thursday there will be tryouts for the choir. They need all the help they can get.
--------------------------
Irving Benson and Jessie Carter were married on October 24 in the church. So ends a friendship that began in their school days.
--------------------------
A bean supper will be held on Tuesday evening in the church hall. Music will follow..
--------------------------
At the evening service tonight, the sermon topic will be 'What Is Hell?' Come early and listen to our choir practice.
--------------------------
Eight new choir robes are currently needed due to the addition of several new members and to the deterioration of some older ones.
--------------------------
Scouts are saving aluminum cans, bottles and other items to be recycled. Proceeds will be used to cripple children.
--------------------------
Please place your donation in the envelope along with the deceased person you want remembered..
--------------------------
The church will host an evening of fine dining, super entertainment and gracious hostility.
--------------------------
Potluck supper Sunday at 5:00 PM - prayer and medication to follow.
--------------------------
The ladies of the Church have cast off clothing of every kind. They may be seen in the basement on Friday afternoon.
--------------------------
This evening at 7 PM there will be a hymn singing in the park across from the Church. Bring a blanket and come prepared to sin.
--------------------------
Ladies Bible Study will be held Thursday morning at 10 AM . All ladies are invited to lunch in the Fellowship Hall after the B. S. Is done.
--------------------------
The pastor would appreciate it if the ladies of the Congregation would lend him their electric girdles for the pancake breakfast next Sunday.
--------------------------
Low Self Esteem Support Group will meet Thursday at 7 PM . Please use the back door.
--------------------------
The eighth-graders will be presenting Shakespeare's Hamlet in the Church basement Friday at 7 PM . The congregation is invited to attend this tragedy.
--------------------------
Weight Watchers will meet at 7 PM at the First Presbyterian Church Please use large double door at the side entrance.
--------------------------
The Associate Minister unveiled the church's new campaign slogan last Sunday: 'I Upped My Pledge - Up Yours.
Making Pancakes
Making Pancakes
�
Six year-old Brandon decided one Saturday morning to fix his parents
pancakes. He found a big bowl and spoon, pulled a chair to the
counter, opened the cupboard and pulled out the heavy flour canister,
spilling it on the floor.
He scooped some of the flour into the bowl with his hands, mixed in
most of a cup of milk and added some sugar, leaving a floury trail on
the floor which by now had a few tracks left by his kitten.
Brandon was covered with flour and getting frustrated. He wanted this
to be something very good for Mom and Dad, but it was getting very
bad.
He didn't know what to do next, whether to put it all into the oven or
on the stove and he didn't know how the stove worked!. Suddenly he saw
his kitten licking from the bowl of mix and reached to push her away,
knocking the egg carton to the floor.
Frantically he tried to clean up this monumental mess but slipped on
the eggs, getting his pajamas white and sticky.
And just then he saw Dad standing at the door. Big crocodile tears
welled up in Brandon 's eyes. All he'd wanted to do was something
good, but he'd made a terrible mess. He was sure a scolding was
coming, maybe even a spanking.. But his father just watched him.
Then, walking through the mess, he picked up his crying son, hugged
him and loved him, getting his own pajamas white and sticky in the
process!
That's how God deals with us.. We try to do something good in life,
but it turns into a mess. Our marriage gets all sticky or we insult a
friend, or we can't stand our job, or our health goes sour.
Sometimes we just stand there in tears because we can't think of
anything else to do. That's when God picks us up and loves us and
forgives us, even though some of our mess gets all over Him.
But just because we might mess up, we can't stop trying to "make
pancakes" for God or for others. Sooner or later we'll get it right,
and then they'll be glad we tried...
I was thinking. and I wondered if I had any wounds needing to be
healed, friendships that need rekindling or three words needing to be
said, sometimes, "I love you" can heal & bless! Remind every one of
your friends that you love them. Even if you think they don't love
back, you would be amazed at what those three little words, a smile,
and a reminder like this can do.
Just in case I haven't told you lately... I LOVE YA!!! �Please pass
some of this love on to others....suppose one morning you were called
to God; do all your friends know you love them?
�
Six year-old Brandon decided one Saturday morning to fix his parents
pancakes. He found a big bowl and spoon, pulled a chair to the
counter, opened the cupboard and pulled out the heavy flour canister,
spilling it on the floor.
He scooped some of the flour into the bowl with his hands, mixed in
most of a cup of milk and added some sugar, leaving a floury trail on
the floor which by now had a few tracks left by his kitten.
Brandon was covered with flour and getting frustrated. He wanted this
to be something very good for Mom and Dad, but it was getting very
bad.
He didn't know what to do next, whether to put it all into the oven or
on the stove and he didn't know how the stove worked!. Suddenly he saw
his kitten licking from the bowl of mix and reached to push her away,
knocking the egg carton to the floor.
Frantically he tried to clean up this monumental mess but slipped on
the eggs, getting his pajamas white and sticky.
And just then he saw Dad standing at the door. Big crocodile tears
welled up in Brandon 's eyes. All he'd wanted to do was something
good, but he'd made a terrible mess. He was sure a scolding was
coming, maybe even a spanking.. But his father just watched him.
Then, walking through the mess, he picked up his crying son, hugged
him and loved him, getting his own pajamas white and sticky in the
process!
That's how God deals with us.. We try to do something good in life,
but it turns into a mess. Our marriage gets all sticky or we insult a
friend, or we can't stand our job, or our health goes sour.
Sometimes we just stand there in tears because we can't think of
anything else to do. That's when God picks us up and loves us and
forgives us, even though some of our mess gets all over Him.
But just because we might mess up, we can't stop trying to "make
pancakes" for God or for others. Sooner or later we'll get it right,
and then they'll be glad we tried...
I was thinking. and I wondered if I had any wounds needing to be
healed, friendships that need rekindling or three words needing to be
said, sometimes, "I love you" can heal & bless! Remind every one of
your friends that you love them. Even if you think they don't love
back, you would be amazed at what those three little words, a smile,
and a reminder like this can do.
Just in case I haven't told you lately... I LOVE YA!!! �Please pass
some of this love on to others....suppose one morning you were called
to God; do all your friends know you love them?
Friday, November 11, 2011
Carl
Carl was a quiet man. He didn't talk much. He would always greet you with a big smile and a firm handshake.
Even after living in our neighborhood for over 50 years, no one could really say they knew him very well.
Before his retirement, he took the bus to work each morning. The lone sight of him walking down the street often worried us.
He had a slight limp from a bullet wound received in WWII.
Watching him, we worried that although he had survived WWII, he may not make it through our changing uptown neighborhood with its ever-increasing random violence, gangs, and drug activity.
When he saw the flyer at our local church asking for volunteers for caring for the gardens behind the minister's residence, he responded in his characteristically unassuming manner. Without fanfare, he just signed up.
He was well into his 87th year when the very thing we had always feared finally happened.
He was just finishing his watering for the day when three gang members approached him.
Ignoring their attempt to intimidate him, he simply asked, "Would you like a drink from the hose?"
The tallest and toughest-looking of the three said, "Yeah, sure," with a malevolent little smile.
As Carl offered the hose to him, the other two grabbed Carl's arm, throwing him down.
As the hose snaked crazily over the ground, dousing everything in its way, Carl's assailants stole his retirement watch and his wallet, and then fled.
Carl tried to get himself up, but he had been thrown down on his bad leg. He lay there trying to gather himself as the minister came running to help him.
Although the minister had witnessed the attack from his window, he couldn't get there fast enough to stop it.
"Carl, are you okay? Are you hurt?" the minister kept asking as he helped Carl to his feet.
Carl just passed a hand over his brow and sighed, shaking his head. "Just some punk kids. I hope they'll wise-up someday."
His wet clothes clung to his slight frame as he bent to pick up the hose. He adjusted the nozzle again and started to water.
Confused and a little concerned, the minister asked, "Carl, what are you doing?"
"I've got to finish my watering. It's been very dry lately," came the calm reply.
Satisfying himself that Carl really was all right, the minister could only marvel. Carl was a man from a different time and place.
A few weeks later the three returned. Just as before their threat was unchallenged.
Carl again offered them a drink from his hose.
This time they didn't rob him.. They wrenched the hose from his hand and drenched him head to foot in the icy water.
When they had finished their humiliation of him, they sauntered off down the street, throwing catcalls and curses, falling over one another laughing at the hilarity of what they had just done.
Carl just watched them. Then he turned toward the warmth giving sun, picked up his hose, and went on with his watering.
The summer was quickly fading into fall. Carl was doing some tilling when he was startled by the sudden approach of someone behind him. He stumbled and fell into some evergreen branches.
As he struggled to regain his footing, he turned to see the tall leader of his summer tormentors reaching down for him. He braced himself for the expected attack.
"Don't worry old man, I'm not gonna hurt you this time."
The young man spoke softly, still offering the tattooed and scarred hand to Carl. As he helped Carl get up, the man pulled a crumpled bag from his pocket and handed it to Carl.
"What's this?" Carl asked. "It's your stuff," the man explained. "It's your stuff back.
Even the money in your wallet." "I don't understand," Carl said. "Why would you help me now?"
The man shifted his feet, seeming embarrassed and ill at ease. "I learned something from you," he said. "I ran with that gang and hurt people like you. We picked you because you were old and we knew we could do it But every time we came and did something to you, instead of yelling and fighting back, you tried to give us a drink. You didn't hate us for hating you. You kept showing love against our hate."
He stopped for a moment. "I couldn't sleep after we stole your stuff, so here it is back."
He paused for another awkward moment, not knowing what more there was to say. "That bag's my way of saying thanks for straightening me out, I guess." And with that, he walked off down the street.
Carl looked down at the sack in his hands and gingerly opened it. He took out his retirement watch and put it back on his wrist.. Opening his wallet, he checked for his wedding photo. He gazed for a moment at the young bride that still smiled back at him from all those years ago.
He died one cold day after Christmas that winter. Many people attended his funeral in spite of the weather.
In particular the minister noticed a tall young man that he didn't know sitting quietly in a distant corner of the church.
The minister spoke of Carl's garden as a lesson in life.
In a voice made thick with unshed tears, he said, "Do your best and make your garden as beautiful as you can. We will never forget Carl and his garden."
The following spring another flyer went up. It read: "Person needed to care for Carl's garden."
The flyer went unnoticed by the busy parishioners until one day when a knock was heard at the minister's office door.
Opening the door, the minister saw a pair of scarred and tattooed hands holding the flyer. "I believe this is my job, if you'll have me," the young man said.
The minister recognized him as the same young man who had returned the stolen watch and wallet to Carl.
He knew that Carl's kindness had turned this man's life around. As the minister handed him the keys to the garden shed, he said, "Yes, go take care of Carl's garden and honor him."
The man went to work and, over the next several years, he tended the flowers and vegetables just as Carl had done.
During that time, he went to college, got married, and became a prominent member of the community. But he never forgot his promise to Carl's memory and kept the garden as beautiful as he thought Carl would have kept it.
One day he approached the new minister and told him that he couldn't care for the garden any longer. He explained with a shy and happy smile, "My wife just had a baby boy last night, and she's bringing him home on Saturday.."
"Well, congratulations!" said the minister, as he was handed the garden shed keys. "That's wonderful! What's the baby's name?"
"Carl," he replied..
Even after living in our neighborhood for over 50 years, no one could really say they knew him very well.
Before his retirement, he took the bus to work each morning. The lone sight of him walking down the street often worried us.
He had a slight limp from a bullet wound received in WWII.
Watching him, we worried that although he had survived WWII, he may not make it through our changing uptown neighborhood with its ever-increasing random violence, gangs, and drug activity.
When he saw the flyer at our local church asking for volunteers for caring for the gardens behind the minister's residence, he responded in his characteristically unassuming manner. Without fanfare, he just signed up.
He was well into his 87th year when the very thing we had always feared finally happened.
He was just finishing his watering for the day when three gang members approached him.
Ignoring their attempt to intimidate him, he simply asked, "Would you like a drink from the hose?"
The tallest and toughest-looking of the three said, "Yeah, sure," with a malevolent little smile.
As Carl offered the hose to him, the other two grabbed Carl's arm, throwing him down.
As the hose snaked crazily over the ground, dousing everything in its way, Carl's assailants stole his retirement watch and his wallet, and then fled.
Carl tried to get himself up, but he had been thrown down on his bad leg. He lay there trying to gather himself as the minister came running to help him.
Although the minister had witnessed the attack from his window, he couldn't get there fast enough to stop it.
"Carl, are you okay? Are you hurt?" the minister kept asking as he helped Carl to his feet.
Carl just passed a hand over his brow and sighed, shaking his head. "Just some punk kids. I hope they'll wise-up someday."
His wet clothes clung to his slight frame as he bent to pick up the hose. He adjusted the nozzle again and started to water.
Confused and a little concerned, the minister asked, "Carl, what are you doing?"
"I've got to finish my watering. It's been very dry lately," came the calm reply.
Satisfying himself that Carl really was all right, the minister could only marvel. Carl was a man from a different time and place.
A few weeks later the three returned. Just as before their threat was unchallenged.
Carl again offered them a drink from his hose.
This time they didn't rob him.. They wrenched the hose from his hand and drenched him head to foot in the icy water.
When they had finished their humiliation of him, they sauntered off down the street, throwing catcalls and curses, falling over one another laughing at the hilarity of what they had just done.
Carl just watched them. Then he turned toward the warmth giving sun, picked up his hose, and went on with his watering.
The summer was quickly fading into fall. Carl was doing some tilling when he was startled by the sudden approach of someone behind him. He stumbled and fell into some evergreen branches.
As he struggled to regain his footing, he turned to see the tall leader of his summer tormentors reaching down for him. He braced himself for the expected attack.
"Don't worry old man, I'm not gonna hurt you this time."
The young man spoke softly, still offering the tattooed and scarred hand to Carl. As he helped Carl get up, the man pulled a crumpled bag from his pocket and handed it to Carl.
"What's this?" Carl asked. "It's your stuff," the man explained. "It's your stuff back.
Even the money in your wallet." "I don't understand," Carl said. "Why would you help me now?"
The man shifted his feet, seeming embarrassed and ill at ease. "I learned something from you," he said. "I ran with that gang and hurt people like you. We picked you because you were old and we knew we could do it But every time we came and did something to you, instead of yelling and fighting back, you tried to give us a drink. You didn't hate us for hating you. You kept showing love against our hate."
He stopped for a moment. "I couldn't sleep after we stole your stuff, so here it is back."
He paused for another awkward moment, not knowing what more there was to say. "That bag's my way of saying thanks for straightening me out, I guess." And with that, he walked off down the street.
Carl looked down at the sack in his hands and gingerly opened it. He took out his retirement watch and put it back on his wrist.. Opening his wallet, he checked for his wedding photo. He gazed for a moment at the young bride that still smiled back at him from all those years ago.
He died one cold day after Christmas that winter. Many people attended his funeral in spite of the weather.
In particular the minister noticed a tall young man that he didn't know sitting quietly in a distant corner of the church.
The minister spoke of Carl's garden as a lesson in life.
In a voice made thick with unshed tears, he said, "Do your best and make your garden as beautiful as you can. We will never forget Carl and his garden."
The following spring another flyer went up. It read: "Person needed to care for Carl's garden."
The flyer went unnoticed by the busy parishioners until one day when a knock was heard at the minister's office door.
Opening the door, the minister saw a pair of scarred and tattooed hands holding the flyer. "I believe this is my job, if you'll have me," the young man said.
The minister recognized him as the same young man who had returned the stolen watch and wallet to Carl.
He knew that Carl's kindness had turned this man's life around. As the minister handed him the keys to the garden shed, he said, "Yes, go take care of Carl's garden and honor him."
The man went to work and, over the next several years, he tended the flowers and vegetables just as Carl had done.
During that time, he went to college, got married, and became a prominent member of the community. But he never forgot his promise to Carl's memory and kept the garden as beautiful as he thought Carl would have kept it.
One day he approached the new minister and told him that he couldn't care for the garden any longer. He explained with a shy and happy smile, "My wife just had a baby boy last night, and she's bringing him home on Saturday.."
"Well, congratulations!" said the minister, as he was handed the garden shed keys. "That's wonderful! What's the baby's name?"
"Carl," he replied..
Monday, November 7, 2011
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Recommendations for the "Newly Diagnosed" Prostate Cancer Patient – Fuller Jones
Recommendations for the "Newly Diagnosed" Prostate Cancer Patient – Fuller Jones
1. Do Not Panic! Many of us have been down this road before, and there is much to learn before you choose the solution "best for you." You have had this thing longer than you think, and taking the time to do the proper investigation into your options will not hurt. Since you have posted on the Internet, you obviously have the means to do most of the research that you need to do. There is a wealth of knowledge and experience for you to draw on.
2. Do Not Accept the First Recommendation From the Urologist! (Or any other "first" recommendation) Get second, (or more) opinions from experts in other specialties. Depending on your Gleason score, you have time to figure this thing out! Gleason of 6 or less, take your time and be thorough; Gleason 7 and up, you need to do something sooner than later, but remember that it "is not going to kill you tomorrow," so you still have time to do a good job of fact gathering. Your PSA value enters into this equation also. This is the time to learn and thoroughly examine ALL your options, because whatever you choose, you will live with the consequences the rest of your days.
3. I recommend that you also join "YANA" (You Are Not Alone")
http://www.yananow.org/
Explore it. (My story is on YANA, under Mentor Experiences/Proton Beam). Study this site carefully; the author, Terry Herbert, is "One of Us." Note: Terry has recently "Re-Started" the original site. If you have not posted your story there, you should! If you have not updated it recently, please do so! Terry is a great guy, and has done a tremendous amount of work to help us all.
4. Consider Proton Beam Radiation Therapy (PBRT), which is only available at five "Centers of Excellence" in the U. S. This is the ONLY treatment (other than "Watchful Waiting" which of course has no side effects) that has the least amount of side effects, with at least comparable results to all other options. Usually you will not hear of this option from other doctors or specialists!
Do not allow the fact that the doctor did not mention it prevent you from considering this option along with the others! At the very least, study the records about PBRT and if possible, visit one of the centers for a consultation.
Disadvantages:
Nine weeks at one of only five centers that offer it.
High cost (Medicare and most insurance does cover it).
Full disclosure: I believe that PBRT results in the best chance for improved "Quality of Life" during and following treatment, and consider myself a "Proton Beam Advocate!"
I completed my PBRT in March of 2007.
5. Get Bob Marckini's book, "You Can Beat Prostate Cancer …" and read it cover to cover BEFORE you visit your doctor again if possible. There is a wealth of information in this book!
Order from Amazon or from Bob at www.protonbob.com .
This recommendation is very important in terms of learning about prostate cancer.
I have also written a book "Prostate Cancer Meets the Proton Beam, available on Amazon.com. Just Google "Fuller Jones Proton" fo info.
Whatever method you choose for your treatment, you should be comfortable with it.
Be happy that you made the choice, based on your personal situation. This is many times better than accepting the recommendation of the diagnosing specialist, then later wondering why you did not do your "due diligence" and make your own decision!
Whatever method you choose, rest assured that the outcome, with experienced surgeons or other specialists, is approximately the same for most modalities. The major differences in the outcomes may be in "quality of life" issues, which may or may not happen in every case.
For me, these were the main drivers in my decision to receive proton beam therapy.
Fuller Jones
1. Do Not Panic! Many of us have been down this road before, and there is much to learn before you choose the solution "best for you." You have had this thing longer than you think, and taking the time to do the proper investigation into your options will not hurt. Since you have posted on the Internet, you obviously have the means to do most of the research that you need to do. There is a wealth of knowledge and experience for you to draw on.
2. Do Not Accept the First Recommendation From the Urologist! (Or any other "first" recommendation) Get second, (or more) opinions from experts in other specialties. Depending on your Gleason score, you have time to figure this thing out! Gleason of 6 or less, take your time and be thorough; Gleason 7 and up, you need to do something sooner than later, but remember that it "is not going to kill you tomorrow," so you still have time to do a good job of fact gathering. Your PSA value enters into this equation also. This is the time to learn and thoroughly examine ALL your options, because whatever you choose, you will live with the consequences the rest of your days.
3. I recommend that you also join "YANA" (You Are Not Alone")
http://www.yananow.org/
Explore it. (My story is on YANA, under Mentor Experiences/Proton Beam). Study this site carefully; the author, Terry Herbert, is "One of Us." Note: Terry has recently "Re-Started" the original site. If you have not posted your story there, you should! If you have not updated it recently, please do so! Terry is a great guy, and has done a tremendous amount of work to help us all.
4. Consider Proton Beam Radiation Therapy (PBRT), which is only available at five "Centers of Excellence" in the U. S. This is the ONLY treatment (other than "Watchful Waiting" which of course has no side effects) that has the least amount of side effects, with at least comparable results to all other options. Usually you will not hear of this option from other doctors or specialists!
Do not allow the fact that the doctor did not mention it prevent you from considering this option along with the others! At the very least, study the records about PBRT and if possible, visit one of the centers for a consultation.
Disadvantages:
Nine weeks at one of only five centers that offer it.
High cost (Medicare and most insurance does cover it).
Full disclosure: I believe that PBRT results in the best chance for improved "Quality of Life" during and following treatment, and consider myself a "Proton Beam Advocate!"
I completed my PBRT in March of 2007.
5. Get Bob Marckini's book, "You Can Beat Prostate Cancer …" and read it cover to cover BEFORE you visit your doctor again if possible. There is a wealth of information in this book!
Order from Amazon or from Bob at www.protonbob.com .
This recommendation is very important in terms of learning about prostate cancer.
I have also written a book "Prostate Cancer Meets the Proton Beam, available on Amazon.com. Just Google "Fuller Jones Proton" fo info.
Whatever method you choose for your treatment, you should be comfortable with it.
Be happy that you made the choice, based on your personal situation. This is many times better than accepting the recommendation of the diagnosing specialist, then later wondering why you did not do your "due diligence" and make your own decision!
Whatever method you choose, rest assured that the outcome, with experienced surgeons or other specialists, is approximately the same for most modalities. The major differences in the outcomes may be in "quality of life" issues, which may or may not happen in every case.
For me, these were the main drivers in my decision to receive proton beam therapy.
Fuller Jones
Friday, November 4, 2011
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
CATCHING WILD PIGS
There was a chemistry professor in a large college that had some exchange students in the class. *
*One day while the class was in the lab, the Prof noticed one young man, an
exchange student, who kept rubbing his back and stretching as if his back hurt.**
The professor asked the young man what was the matter.
The student told him he had a bullet lodged in his back. He had been shot while fighting communists in his native country who were trying to overthrow his country's government and install a new communist regime.
In the midst of his story, he looked at the professor and asked a strange
question. He asked: "Do you know how to catch wild pigs?"
The professor thought it was a joke and asked for the punch line. The young man said that it was no joke.
"You catch wild pigs by finding a suitable place in the woods and putting corn on the ground. *
*The pigs find it and begin to come everyday to eat the free corn. *
*When they are used to coming every day, you put a fence down one side of the place where they are used to coming.**
When they get used to the fence, they begin to eat the corn again and you put up another side of the fence.
They get used to that and start to eat again. *
*You continue until you have all four sides of the fence up with a gate in the last side.**
The pigs, which are used to the free corn, start to come through the gate to eat that free corn again.
You then slam the gate on them and catch the whole herd. *
*Suddenly the wild pigs have lost their freedom.**
They run around and around inside the fence, but they are
caught.
Soon they go back to eating the free corn. *
*They are so used to it that they have forgotten how to forage in the woods for themselves, so they accept their captivity."**
The young man then told the professor that is exactly what he sees happening in America. *
*The government keeps pushing us toward Communism/Socialism and keeps spreading the free corn out in the form of programs such as supplemental income, tax credit for unearned income, tax exemptions, tobacco subsidies, dairy subsidies, payments not to plant crops (CRP), welfare, medicine, drugs, etc. while we continually lose our freedoms, just a little at a time.**
One should always remember two truths:
1) There is no such thing as a free lunch, someone is paying for it
2) and when you begin to think that having your government*
*provide for you and make your decisions is ok, realize that you've *
*also given up the freedom that goes with making your own choices.**
*One day while the class was in the lab, the Prof noticed one young man, an
exchange student, who kept rubbing his back and stretching as if his back hurt.**
The professor asked the young man what was the matter.
The student told him he had a bullet lodged in his back. He had been shot while fighting communists in his native country who were trying to overthrow his country's government and install a new communist regime.
In the midst of his story, he looked at the professor and asked a strange
question. He asked: "Do you know how to catch wild pigs?"
The professor thought it was a joke and asked for the punch line. The young man said that it was no joke.
"You catch wild pigs by finding a suitable place in the woods and putting corn on the ground. *
*The pigs find it and begin to come everyday to eat the free corn. *
*When they are used to coming every day, you put a fence down one side of the place where they are used to coming.**
When they get used to the fence, they begin to eat the corn again and you put up another side of the fence.
They get used to that and start to eat again. *
*You continue until you have all four sides of the fence up with a gate in the last side.**
The pigs, which are used to the free corn, start to come through the gate to eat that free corn again.
You then slam the gate on them and catch the whole herd. *
*Suddenly the wild pigs have lost their freedom.**
They run around and around inside the fence, but they are
caught.
Soon they go back to eating the free corn. *
*They are so used to it that they have forgotten how to forage in the woods for themselves, so they accept their captivity."**
The young man then told the professor that is exactly what he sees happening in America. *
*The government keeps pushing us toward Communism/Socialism and keeps spreading the free corn out in the form of programs such as supplemental income, tax credit for unearned income, tax exemptions, tobacco subsidies, dairy subsidies, payments not to plant crops (CRP), welfare, medicine, drugs, etc. while we continually lose our freedoms, just a little at a time.**
One should always remember two truths:
1) There is no such thing as a free lunch, someone is paying for it
2) and when you begin to think that having your government*
*provide for you and make your decisions is ok, realize that you've *
*also given up the freedom that goes with making your own choices.**
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Quiz for Bright People
There are only nine questions.
This is a quiz for people who know everything!
I found out in a hurry that I didn't. These are not trick questions.
They are straight questions with straight answers..
1. Name the one sport in which neither the spectators nor the participants know the score or the leader until the contest ends.
2. What famous North American landmark is constantly moving backward?
3. Of all vegetables, only two can live to produce on their own for several growing seasons.
All other vegetables must be replanted every year. What are the only two perennial vegetables?
4. What fruit has its seeds on the outside?
5. In many liquor stores, you can buy pear brandy, with a real pear inside the bottle. The pear is whole and ripe, and the bottle is genuine; it hasn't been cut in any way. How did the pear get inside the bottle?
6. Only three words in standard English begin with the letters ' dw' and they are all common words. Name two of them.
7. There are 14 punctuation marks in English grammar. Can you name at least half of them?
8. Name the only vegetable or fruit that is never sold frozen, canned, processed, cooked, or in any other form except fresh.
9. Name 6 or more things that you can wear on your feet beginning with the letter 'S.'
Answers To Quiz:
1. The one sport in which neither the spectators nor the participants know the score or the
leader until the contest ends: Boxing.
2. North American landmark constantly moving backward: Niagara Falls . (The rim is worn down about two and a half feet each year because of the millions of gallons of water that rush over it every minute.)
3. Only two vegetables that can live to produce on their own for several growing seasons: Asparagus and rhubarb.
4. The fruit with its seeds on the outside: Strawberry.
5. How did the pear get inside the brandy bottle? It grew inside the bottle. The bottles are placed over pear buds when they are small, and are wired in place on the tree. The bottle is left in place for the entire growing season. When the pears are ripe, they are snipped off at the stems.
6. Three English words beginning with dw: Dwarf, dwell and dwindle...
7. Fourteen punctuation marks in English grammar: Period, comma, colon, semicolon, dash, hyphen, apostrophe, question mark, exclamation point, quotation mark, brackets, parenthesis, braces, and ellipses.
8. The only vegetable or fruit never sold frozen, canned, processed, cooked, or in any other form but fresh: Lettuce.
9. Six or more things you can wear on your feet beginning with 'S': Shoes, socks, sandals,
sneakers, slippers, skis, skates, snowshoes, stockings, stilts.
This is a quiz for people who know everything!
I found out in a hurry that I didn't. These are not trick questions.
They are straight questions with straight answers..
1. Name the one sport in which neither the spectators nor the participants know the score or the leader until the contest ends.
2. What famous North American landmark is constantly moving backward?
3. Of all vegetables, only two can live to produce on their own for several growing seasons.
All other vegetables must be replanted every year. What are the only two perennial vegetables?
4. What fruit has its seeds on the outside?
5. In many liquor stores, you can buy pear brandy, with a real pear inside the bottle. The pear is whole and ripe, and the bottle is genuine; it hasn't been cut in any way. How did the pear get inside the bottle?
6. Only three words in standard English begin with the letters ' dw' and they are all common words. Name two of them.
7. There are 14 punctuation marks in English grammar. Can you name at least half of them?
8. Name the only vegetable or fruit that is never sold frozen, canned, processed, cooked, or in any other form except fresh.
9. Name 6 or more things that you can wear on your feet beginning with the letter 'S.'
Answers To Quiz:
1. The one sport in which neither the spectators nor the participants know the score or the
leader until the contest ends: Boxing.
2. North American landmark constantly moving backward: Niagara Falls . (The rim is worn down about two and a half feet each year because of the millions of gallons of water that rush over it every minute.)
3. Only two vegetables that can live to produce on their own for several growing seasons: Asparagus and rhubarb.
4. The fruit with its seeds on the outside: Strawberry.
5. How did the pear get inside the brandy bottle? It grew inside the bottle. The bottles are placed over pear buds when they are small, and are wired in place on the tree. The bottle is left in place for the entire growing season. When the pears are ripe, they are snipped off at the stems.
6. Three English words beginning with dw: Dwarf, dwell and dwindle...
7. Fourteen punctuation marks in English grammar: Period, comma, colon, semicolon, dash, hyphen, apostrophe, question mark, exclamation point, quotation mark, brackets, parenthesis, braces, and ellipses.
8. The only vegetable or fruit never sold frozen, canned, processed, cooked, or in any other form but fresh: Lettuce.
9. Six or more things you can wear on your feet beginning with 'S': Shoes, socks, sandals,
sneakers, slippers, skis, skates, snowshoes, stockings, stilts.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Math History
Math since the 1950s:
1. Teaching Math In 1950s
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is 4/5 of the price.. What is his profit?
2. Teaching Math In 1960s
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is 4/5 of the price, or $80. What is his profit?
3. Teaching Math In 1970s
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is $80. Did he make a profit?
4. Teaching Math In 1980s
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is $80 and his profit is $20. Your assignment: Underline the number 20.
5. Teaching Math In 1990s
A logger cuts down a beautiful forest because he is selfish and inconsiderate and cares nothing for the habitat of animals or the preservation of our woodlands. He does this so he can make a profit of $20.
What do you think of this way of making a living?
Topic for class participation after answering the question: How did the birds and squirrels feel as the logger cut down their homes? (There are no wrong answers, and if you feel like crying, it's ok).
6. Teaching Math In 2010
Un hachero vende una carretada de maderapara $100. El costo de la producciones es $80. Cuanto dinero ha hecho?
ANSWER: His profit was $375,000 because his logging business is just a front for his marijuana
My odometer rolled over to 90 in August
Written by Regina Brett, 90 years old, of the Plain Dealer, Cleveland , Ohio .
"To celebrate growing older, I once wrote the 45 lessons life taught me.
It is the most requested column I've ever written.
My odometer rolled over to 90 in August, so here is the column once more:
1. Life isn't fair, but it's still good..
2. When in doubt, just take the next small step.
3. Life is too short to waste time hating anyone.
4. Your job won't take care of you when you are sick. Your friends and parents will. Stay in touch.
5. Pay off your credit cards every month.
6. You don't have to win every argument. Agree to disagree.
7. Cry with someone. It's more healing than crying alone.
8. It's OK to get angry with God. He can take it.
9. Save for retirement starting with your first paycheck.
10. When it comes to chocolate, resistance is futile.
11. Make peace with your past so it won't screw up the present.
12.. It's OK to let your children see you cry.
13. Don't compare your life to others. You have no idea what their journey is all about.
14. If a relationship has to be a secret, you shouldn't be in it.
15. Everything can change in the blink of an eye. But don't worry; God never blinks.
16. Take a deep breath It calms the mind.
17. Get rid of anything that isn't useful, beautiful or joyful.
18. Whatever doesn't kill you really does make you stronger.
19. It's never too late to have a happy childhood. But the second one is up to you and no one else.
20. When it comes to going after what you love in life, don't take no for an answer.
21. Burn the candles, use the nice sheets, wear the fancy lingerie. Don't save it for a special occasion. Today is special.
22. Over prepare, then go with the flow.
23. Be eccentric now. Don't wait for old age to wear purple..
24. The most important sex organ is the brain.
25. No one is in charge of your happiness but you.
26.. Frame every so-called disaster with these words :'In five years, will this matter?'
27. Always choose life..
28. Forgive everyone everything.
29. What other people think of you is none of your business.
30. Time heals almost everything. Give time time.
31. However good or bad a situation is, it will change.
32. Don't take yourself so seriously. No one else does.
33. Believe in miracles.
34. God loves you because of who God is, not because of anything you did or didn't do.
35. Don't audit life.. Show up and make the most of it now.
36. Growing old beats the alternative -- dying young.
37. Your children get only one childhood.
38. All that truly matters in the end is that you loved.
39. Get outside every day. Miracles are waiting everywhere.
40. If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else's, we'd grab ours back.
41. Envy is a waste of time. You already have all you need.
42. The best is yet to come...
43. No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up.
44. Yield.
45. Life isn't tied with a bow, but it's still a gift."
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Chaplain's Thought
Chaplain's Thought:
Last Thursday morning I was one of more than 300 runners in the NSA
Armed Forces Week 5K run ( Ft. Meade , MD ). It was pretty crowded
at the start, but things thinned out after about five minutes or so, and I
took my bearings.
Perhaps 200 yards ahead of me was a group of maybe 8 Marines or
so who were obviously running together.
I decided that a good goal would be to beat them, which seemed
reasonable as I am a macho Air Force Chaplain and they
were only a bunch of United States Marines. I kept them in sight for the
next couple of miles, but the longer the race went on,
the younger those guys got.
It became apparent to me in the last half mile that I was not
going to catch them, and I resigned myself to finishing well behind
them.
Then I noticed that one of their number was struggling and was
gradually dropping off the pace.
I panted out a word of encouragement as I caught him
and realized that he was not about to give up. Within 100 yards of the
finish line I saw a strange sight. The entire group of Marines made a
u turn in the road and were running back towards me.
As they ran past me I noted their well chiseled muscles and the
determined set of their jaws. I glanced over my shoulder in time to see
them rally around their buddy to provide the emotional support of the
team so that they could all finish together.
I was impressed. No way would they leave a struggling comrade behind.
As I entered the finishing chute I murmured a prayer.
"God, I'm glad those guys are on our side."
And so it was that I learned a theological truth from the
U.S. Marines that is as vivid as any my seminary professors ever
taught.
"If anyone... sees his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can
the love of God be in him?
Let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth."
1 John 3:17,18
Last Thursday I witnessed "a few good men" in action.
They reminded me of the strength of being a team, and that words
without actions are pretty much useless.
Thanks, Marines.
Last Thursday morning I was one of more than 300 runners in the NSA
Armed Forces Week 5K run ( Ft. Meade , MD ). It was pretty crowded
at the start, but things thinned out after about five minutes or so, and I
took my bearings.
Perhaps 200 yards ahead of me was a group of maybe 8 Marines or
so who were obviously running together.
I decided that a good goal would be to beat them, which seemed
reasonable as I am a macho Air Force Chaplain and they
were only a bunch of United States Marines. I kept them in sight for the
next couple of miles, but the longer the race went on,
the younger those guys got.
It became apparent to me in the last half mile that I was not
going to catch them, and I resigned myself to finishing well behind
them.
Then I noticed that one of their number was struggling and was
gradually dropping off the pace.
I panted out a word of encouragement as I caught him
and realized that he was not about to give up. Within 100 yards of the
finish line I saw a strange sight. The entire group of Marines made a
u turn in the road and were running back towards me.
As they ran past me I noted their well chiseled muscles and the
determined set of their jaws. I glanced over my shoulder in time to see
them rally around their buddy to provide the emotional support of the
team so that they could all finish together.
I was impressed. No way would they leave a struggling comrade behind.
As I entered the finishing chute I murmured a prayer.
"God, I'm glad those guys are on our side."
And so it was that I learned a theological truth from the
U.S. Marines that is as vivid as any my seminary professors ever
taught.
"If anyone... sees his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can
the love of God be in him?
Let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth."
1 John 3:17,18
Last Thursday I witnessed "a few good men" in action.
They reminded me of the strength of being a team, and that words
without actions are pretty much useless.
Thanks, Marines.
Friday, October 7, 2011
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
An ID ten T error
As we Silver Surfers know, sometimes we have trouble with our computers.
I had a problem yesterday, so I called Eric, the 11
year old next door, whose bedroom looks like Mission Control and asked him to
come over.
Eric clicked a couple of buttons and solved the problem.
As he was walking away, I called after him, 'So, what was wrong ?
He replied, 'It was an ID ten T error.'
I didn't want to appear stupid, but nonetheless enquired,
'An, ID ten T error ? What's that? In case I need to fix it again.'
Eric grinned ..'Haven't you ever heard of an ID ten T error before ?
'No,' I replied.
'Write it down,' he said, 'and I think you'll figure it out.'
So I wrote down:
ID10T
I used to like Eric, the little ba<>rd.
if you're not a Senior yet then send this to one...
I had a problem yesterday, so I called Eric, the 11
year old next door, whose bedroom looks like Mission Control and asked him to
come over.
Eric clicked a couple of buttons and solved the problem.
As he was walking away, I called after him, 'So, what was wrong ?
He replied, 'It was an ID ten T error.'
I didn't want to appear stupid, but nonetheless enquired,
'An, ID ten T error ? What's that? In case I need to fix it again.'
Eric grinned ..'Haven't you ever heard of an ID ten T error before ?
'No,' I replied.
'Write it down,' he said, 'and I think you'll figure it out.'
So I wrote down:
ID10T
I used to like Eric, the little ba<>rd.
if you're not a Senior yet then send this to one...
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Political Science for Dummies (Updated)
DEMOCRAT
You have two cows.
Your neighbor has none.
You feel guilty for being successful.
You push for higher taxes so the government can provide cows for everyone.
REPUBLICAN
You have two cows.
Your neighbor has none.
So?
SOCIALIST
You have two cows.
The government takes one and gives it to your neighbor.
You form a cooperative to tell him how to manage his cow.
COMMUNIST
You have two cows.
The government seizes both and provides you with milk.
You wait in line for hours to get it.
It is expensive and sour.
CAPITALISM, AMERICAN STYLE
You have two cows.
You sell one, buy a bull, and build
a herd of cows.
BUREAUCRACY, CANADIAN STYLE
You have two cows..
Under the new farm program the government pays you to shoot one,
milk the other, and then pour the
milk down the drain.
AMERICAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You sell one, lease it back to yourself
and do an IPO on the 2nd one.
You force the two cows to produce
the milk of four cows.
You are surprised when one cow
drops dead.
You spin an announcement to the
analysts stating you have downsized
and are reducing expenses.
Your stock goes up.
FRENCH CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You go on strike because you want
three cows.
You go to lunch and drink wine.
Life is good..
JAPANESE CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You redesign them so they are one-tenth the size of an ordinary cow and produce twenty times the milk.
They learn to travel on unbelievably crowded trains.
Most are at the top of their class at cow school.
GERMAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You engineer them so they are all blond, drink lots of beer, give excellent quality milk, and run a hundred miles an hour.
Unfortunately they also demand 13 weeks of vacation per year.
ITALIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows but you don't know where they are.
You break for lunch.
Life is good.
RUSSIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You drink some vodka.
You count them and learn you have
five cows.
You drink some more vodka.
You count them again and learn you
have 42 cows.
The Mafia shows up and takes over however many cows you really have.
TALIBAN CORPORATION
You have all the cows in Afghanistan, which are two.
You don't milk them because you cannot touch any creature's private parts.
You get a $40 million grant from the U.S. government to find alternatives to milk production, but use the money to buy weapons.
IRAQI CORPORATION
You have two cows.
They go into hiding.
They send radio tapes of their mooing.
POLISH CORPORATION
You have two bulls.
Employees are regularly maimed and
killed attempting to milk them.
BELGIAN CORPORATION
You have one cow.
The cow is schizophrenic.
Sometimes the cow thinks he's French, other times he's Flemish.
The Flemish cow won't share with the French cow.
The French cow wants control of the Flemish cow's milk.
The cow asks permission to be cut in half.
The cow dies happy.
FLORIDA CORPORATION
You have a black cow and a brown cow.
Everyone votes for the best looking one.
Some of the people who actually like the brown one best accidentally vote for the
black one.
Some people vote for both.
Some people vote for neither.
Some people can't figure out how
to vote at all.
Finally, a bunch of guys from out-of-state tell you which one you think is the best looking cow.
CALIFORNIA CORPORATION
You have millions of cows.
They make real California cheese.
Only five speak English.
Most are illegal.
Arnold likes the ones with the big udders.
You have two cows.
Your neighbor has none.
You feel guilty for being successful.
You push for higher taxes so the government can provide cows for everyone.
REPUBLICAN
You have two cows.
Your neighbor has none.
So?
SOCIALIST
You have two cows.
The government takes one and gives it to your neighbor.
You form a cooperative to tell him how to manage his cow.
COMMUNIST
You have two cows.
The government seizes both and provides you with milk.
You wait in line for hours to get it.
It is expensive and sour.
CAPITALISM, AMERICAN STYLE
You have two cows.
You sell one, buy a bull, and build
a herd of cows.
BUREAUCRACY, CANADIAN STYLE
You have two cows..
Under the new farm program the government pays you to shoot one,
milk the other, and then pour the
milk down the drain.
AMERICAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You sell one, lease it back to yourself
and do an IPO on the 2nd one.
You force the two cows to produce
the milk of four cows.
You are surprised when one cow
drops dead.
You spin an announcement to the
analysts stating you have downsized
and are reducing expenses.
Your stock goes up.
FRENCH CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You go on strike because you want
three cows.
You go to lunch and drink wine.
Life is good..
JAPANESE CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You redesign them so they are one-tenth the size of an ordinary cow and produce twenty times the milk.
They learn to travel on unbelievably crowded trains.
Most are at the top of their class at cow school.
GERMAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You engineer them so they are all blond, drink lots of beer, give excellent quality milk, and run a hundred miles an hour.
Unfortunately they also demand 13 weeks of vacation per year.
ITALIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows but you don't know where they are.
You break for lunch.
Life is good.
RUSSIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You drink some vodka.
You count them and learn you have
five cows.
You drink some more vodka.
You count them again and learn you
have 42 cows.
The Mafia shows up and takes over however many cows you really have.
TALIBAN CORPORATION
You have all the cows in Afghanistan, which are two.
You don't milk them because you cannot touch any creature's private parts.
You get a $40 million grant from the U.S. government to find alternatives to milk production, but use the money to buy weapons.
IRAQI CORPORATION
You have two cows.
They go into hiding.
They send radio tapes of their mooing.
POLISH CORPORATION
You have two bulls.
Employees are regularly maimed and
killed attempting to milk them.
BELGIAN CORPORATION
You have one cow.
The cow is schizophrenic.
Sometimes the cow thinks he's French, other times he's Flemish.
The Flemish cow won't share with the French cow.
The French cow wants control of the Flemish cow's milk.
The cow asks permission to be cut in half.
The cow dies happy.
FLORIDA CORPORATION
You have a black cow and a brown cow.
Everyone votes for the best looking one.
Some of the people who actually like the brown one best accidentally vote for the
black one.
Some people vote for both.
Some people vote for neither.
Some people can't figure out how
to vote at all.
Finally, a bunch of guys from out-of-state tell you which one you think is the best looking cow.
CALIFORNIA CORPORATION
You have millions of cows.
They make real California cheese.
Only five speak English.
Most are illegal.
Arnold likes the ones with the big udders.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Friday, September 9, 2011
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Saturday, September 3, 2011
9/11 Story
A man from Norfolk , VA called a local radio station to share this on Sept 11th, 2003, TWO YEARS AFTER THE TRAGEDIES OF 9/11/2001.
His name was Robert Matthews. These are his words:
A few weeks before Sept. 11th, my wife and I found out we were going to have our first child... She planned a trip out to California to visit her sister. On our way to the airport, we prayed that God would grant my wife a safe trip and be with her. Shortly after I said 'amen,' we both heard a loud pop and the car shook violently. We had blown out a tire. I replaced the tire as quickly as I could, but we still missed her flight. both very upset, we drove home.
I received a call from my father who was retired NYFD. He asked what my wife's flight number was, but I explained that we missed the flight.
My father informed me that her flight was the one that crashed into the southern tower. I was too shocked to speak. My father also had more news for me; he was going to help. 'This is not something I can't just sit by for; I have to do something.'
I was concerned for his safety, of course, but more because he had never given his life to Christ. After a brief debate, I knew his mind was made up. Before he got off of the phone, he said, 'take good care of my grandchild.... Those were the last words I ever heard my father say; he died while helping in the rescue effort.
My joy that my prayer of safety for my wife had been answered quickly became anger. I was angry at God, at my father, and at myself. I had gone for nearly two years blaming God for taking my father away. My son would never know his grandfather, my father had never accepted Christ, and I never got to say good-bye.
Then something happened. About two months ago, I was sitting at home with my wife and my son, when there was a knock on the door. I looked at my wife, but I could tell she wasn't expecting anyone. I opened the door to a couple with a small child.
The man looked at me and asked if my father's name was Jake Matthews. I told him it was. He quickly grabbed my hand and said, 'I never got the chance to meet your father, but it is an honor to meet his son.'
He explained to me that his wife had worked in the World Trade Center and had been caught inside after the attack.. She was pregnant and had been caught under debris. He then explained that my father had been the one to find his wife and free her. My eyes welled up with tears as I thought of my father giving his life for people like this. He then said, 'there is something else you need to know.'
His wife then told me that as my father worked to free her, she talked to him and led him to Christ !
I began sobbing at the news.
Now I know that when I get to Heaven, my father will be standing beside Jesus to welcome me, and that this family would be able to thank him themselves.
When their baby boy was born, they named him Jacob Matthew, in honor of the man who gave his life so that a mother and baby could live.
This story should help us to realize this: God is always in control......
We may not see the reason behind things, and we may never know this side of heaven, but God is ALWAYS in control.
Please take time to share this amazing story. You may never know the impact it may have on someone. God doesn't call the qualified, He qualifies the called !
Give thanks to the Lord for He is good. His love endures Forever ! Psalm 136
His name was Robert Matthews. These are his words:
A few weeks before Sept. 11th, my wife and I found out we were going to have our first child... She planned a trip out to California to visit her sister. On our way to the airport, we prayed that God would grant my wife a safe trip and be with her. Shortly after I said 'amen,' we both heard a loud pop and the car shook violently. We had blown out a tire. I replaced the tire as quickly as I could, but we still missed her flight. both very upset, we drove home.
I received a call from my father who was retired NYFD. He asked what my wife's flight number was, but I explained that we missed the flight.
My father informed me that her flight was the one that crashed into the southern tower. I was too shocked to speak. My father also had more news for me; he was going to help. 'This is not something I can't just sit by for; I have to do something.'
I was concerned for his safety, of course, but more because he had never given his life to Christ. After a brief debate, I knew his mind was made up. Before he got off of the phone, he said, 'take good care of my grandchild.... Those were the last words I ever heard my father say; he died while helping in the rescue effort.
My joy that my prayer of safety for my wife had been answered quickly became anger. I was angry at God, at my father, and at myself. I had gone for nearly two years blaming God for taking my father away. My son would never know his grandfather, my father had never accepted Christ, and I never got to say good-bye.
Then something happened. About two months ago, I was sitting at home with my wife and my son, when there was a knock on the door. I looked at my wife, but I could tell she wasn't expecting anyone. I opened the door to a couple with a small child.
The man looked at me and asked if my father's name was Jake Matthews. I told him it was. He quickly grabbed my hand and said, 'I never got the chance to meet your father, but it is an honor to meet his son.'
He explained to me that his wife had worked in the World Trade Center and had been caught inside after the attack.. She was pregnant and had been caught under debris. He then explained that my father had been the one to find his wife and free her. My eyes welled up with tears as I thought of my father giving his life for people like this. He then said, 'there is something else you need to know.'
His wife then told me that as my father worked to free her, she talked to him and led him to Christ !
I began sobbing at the news.
Now I know that when I get to Heaven, my father will be standing beside Jesus to welcome me, and that this family would be able to thank him themselves.
When their baby boy was born, they named him Jacob Matthew, in honor of the man who gave his life so that a mother and baby could live.
This story should help us to realize this: God is always in control......
We may not see the reason behind things, and we may never know this side of heaven, but God is ALWAYS in control.
Please take time to share this amazing story. You may never know the impact it may have on someone. God doesn't call the qualified, He qualifies the called !
Give thanks to the Lord for He is good. His love endures Forever ! Psalm 136
Monday, August 22, 2011
WW II Story
By the pilot of aircraft #13 on the Doolittle Raid off the Hornet in 1942
For you historians, this is an interesting account of the Doolittle raid on the mainland of Japan in early WW ll. Enjoy!
This is a really excellent firsthand account by the pilot of aircraft #13 on the Doolittle Raid off the Hornet in 1942. Take the time and enjoy a bit of history.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
My name is Edgar McElroy. My friends call me "Mac". I was born and raised in Ennis , Texas the youngest of five children, son of Harry and Jennie McElroy. Folks say that I was the quiet one. We lived at 609 North Dallas Street and attended the Presbyterian Church.
My dad had an auto mechanic's shop downtown close to the main fire station. My family was a hard working bunch, and I was expected to work at dad's garage after school and on Saturdays, so I grew up in an atmosphere of machinery, oil and grease. Occasionally I would hear a lone plane fly over, and would run out in the street and strain my eyes against the sun to watch it. Someday, that would be me up there!
I really like cars, and I was always busy on some project, and it wasn't long before I decided to build my very own Model-T out of spare parts. I got an engine from over here, a frame from over there, and wheels from someplace else, using only the good parts from old cars that were otherwise shot. It wasn't very pretty, but it was all mine. I enjoyed driving on the dirt roads around town and the feeling of freedom and speed. That car of mine could really go fast, 40 miles per hour!
In high school I played football and tennis, and was good enough at football to receive an athletic scholarship from Trinity University in Waxahachie. I have to admit that sometimes I daydreamed in class, and often times I thought about flying my very own airplane and being up there in the clouds. That is when I even decided to take a correspondence course in aircraft engines.
Whenever I got the chance, I would take my girl on a date up to Love Field in Dallas . We would watch the airplanes and listen to those mighty piston engines roar. I just loved it and if she didn't, well that was just too bad.
After my schooling, I operated a filling station with my brother, then drove a bus, and later had a job as a machinist in Longview , but I never lost my love of airplanes and my dream of flying. With what was going on in Europe and in Asia , I figured that our country would be drawn into war someday, so I decided to join the Army Air Corps in November of 1940. This way I could finally follow my dream.
I reported for primary training in California . The training was rigorous and frustrating at times. We trained at airfields all over California . It was tough going, and many of the guys washed out. When I finally saw that I was going to make it, I wrote to my girl back in Longview , Texas . Her name is Agnes Gill. I asked her to come out to California for my graduation. and oh yeah, also to marry me.
I graduated on July 11, 1941. I was now a real, honest-to-goodness Army Air Corps pilot. Two days later, I married "Aggie" in Reno , Nevada . We were starting a new life together and were very happy. I received my orders to report to Pendleton , Oregon and join the 17th Bomb Group. Neither of us had traveled much before, and the drive north through the Cascade Range of the Sierra Nevada 's was interesting and beautiful.
It was an exciting time for us. My unit was the first to receive the new B-25 medium bomber. When I saw it for the first time I was in awe. It looked so huge. It was so sleek and powerful. The guys started calling it the "rocket plane", and I could hardly wait to get my hands on it. I told Aggie that it was really something! Reminded me of a big old scorpion, just ready to sting! Man, I could barely wait!
We were transferred to another airfield in Washington State , where we spent a lot a time flying practice missions and attacking imaginary targets. Then, there were other assignments in Mississippi and Georgia , for more maneuvers and more practice.
We were on our way back to California on December 7th when we got word of a Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor . We listened with mixed emotions to the announcements on the radio, and the next day to the declaration of war. What the President said, it just rang over and over in my head, ".With confidence in our armed forces, with the un-bounding determination of our people, we will gain the inevitable triumph. So help us God." By gosh, I felt as though he was talking straight to me! I didn't know what would happen to us, but we all knew that we would be going somewhere now.
The first weeks of the war, we were back in Oregon flying patrols at sea looking for possible Japanese submarines. We had to be up at 0330 hours to warm up the engines of our planes. There was 18 inches of snow on the ground, and it was so cold that our engine oil congealed overnight. We placed big tarps over the engines that reached down to the ground. Inside this tent we used plumbers blow torches to thaw out the engines. I figured that my dad would be proud of me, if he could see me inside this tent with all this machinery, oil and grease. After about an hour of this, the engines were warm enough to start.
We flew patrols over the coasts of Oregon and Washington from dawn until dusk. Once I thought I spotted a sub, and started my bomb run, even had my bomb doors open, but I pulled out of it when I realized that it was just a big whale.
Lucky for me, I would have never heard the end of that!
Actually it was lucky for us that the Japanese didn't attack the west coast, because we just didn't have a strong enough force to beat them off. Our country was in a real fix now, and overall things looked pretty bleak to most folks. In early February, we were ordered to report to Columbus , South Carolina . Man, this Air Corps sure moves a fellow around a lot! Little did I know what was coming next!
After we got settled in Columbus , my squadron commander called us all together. He told us that an awfully hazardous mission was being planned, and then he asked for volunteers. There were some of the guys that did not step forward, but I was one of the ones that did. My co-pilot was shocked. He said "You can't volunteer, Mac! You're married, and you and Aggie are expecting a baby soon. Don't do it!" I told him that "I got into the Air Force to do what I can, and Aggie understands how I feel. The war won't be easy for any of us."
We that volunteered were transferred to Eglin Field near Valparaiso , Florida in late February. When we all got together, there were about 140 of us volunteers, and we were told that we were now part of the "Special B-25 Project."
We set about our training, but none of us knew what it was all about. We were ordered not to talk about it, not even to our wives.
In early March, we were all called in for a briefing, and gathered together in a big building there on the base. Somebody said that the fellow who head of this thing is coming to talk to us, and in walks Lieutenant Colonel Jimmy Doolittle. He was already an aviation legend, and there he stood right in front of us. I was truly amazed just to meet him.
Colonel Doolittle explained that this mission would be extremely dangerous, and that only volunteers could take part. He said that he could not tell us where we were going, but he could say that some of us would not be coming back.
There was a silent pause; you could have heard a pin drop. Then Doolittle said that anyone of us could withdraw now, and that no one would criticize us for this decision. No one backed out! From the outset, all volunteers worked from the early morning hours until well after sunset. All excess weight was stripped from the planes and extra gas tanks were added. The lower gun turret was removed, the heavy liaison radio was removed, and then the tail guns were taken out and more gas tanks were put aboard. We extended the range of that plane from 1000 miles out to 2500 miles.
Then I was assigned my crew. There was Richard Knobloch the co-pilot, Clayton Campbell the navigator, Robert Bourgeous the bombardier, Adam Williams the flight engineer and gunner, and me, Mac McElroy the pilot. Over the coming days, I came to respect them a lot. They were a swell bunch of guys, just regular All-American boys.
We got a few ideas from the training as to what type of mission that we had signed on for. A Navy pilot had joined our group to coach us at short takeoffs and also in shipboard etiquette. We began our short takeoff practice. Taking off with first a light load, then a normal load, and finally overloaded up to 31,000 lbs. The shortest possible take-off was obtained with flaps full down, stabilizer set three-fourths, tail heavy, full power against the brakes and releasing the brakes simultaneously as the engine revved up to max power. We pulled back gradually on the stick and the airplane left the ground with the tail skid about one foot from the runway. It was a very unnatural and scary way to get airborne! I could hardly believe it myself, the first time as I took off with a full gas load and dummy bombs within just 700 feet of runway in a near stall condition. We were, for all practical purposes, a slow flying gasoline bomb!
In addition to take-off practice, we refined our skills in day and night navigation, gunnery, bombing, and low level flying. We made cross country flights at tree-top level, night flights and navigational flights over the Gulf of Mexico without the use of a radio. After we started that short-field takeoff routine, we had some pretty fancy competition between the crews. I think that one crew got it down to about 300 feet on a hot day. We were told that only the best crews would actually go on the mission, and the rest would be held in reserve. One crew did stall on takeoff, slipped back to the ground, busting up their landing gear. They were eliminated from the mission. Doolittle emphasized again and again the extreme danger of this operation, and made it clear that anyone of us who so desired could drop out with no questions asked. No one did.
On one of our cross country flights, we landed at Barksdale Field in Shreveport , and I was able to catch a bus over to Longview to see Aggie. We had a few hours together, and then we had to say our goodbyes. I told her I hoped to be back in time for the baby's birth, but I couldn't tell her where I was going. As I walked away, I turned and walked backwards for a ways, taking one last look at my beautiful pregnant Aggie.
Within a few days of returning to our base in Florida we were abruptly told to pack our things. After just three weeks of practice, we were on our way. This was it. It was time to go. It was the middle of March 1942, and I was 30 years old. Our orders were to fly to McClelland Air Base in Sacramento , California on our own, at the lowest possible level. So here we went on our way west, scraping the tree tops at 160 miles per hour, and skimming along just 50 feet above plowed fields. We crossed North Texas and then the panhandle, scaring the dickens out of livestock, buzzing farm houses and a many a barn along the way. Over the Rocky Mountains and across the Mojave Desert dodging thunderstorms, we enjoyed the flight immensely and although tempted, I didn't do too much dare-devil stuff. We didn't know it at the time, but it was good practice for what lay ahead of us. It proved to be our last fling. Once we arrived in Sacramento , the mechanics went over our plane with a fine-toothed comb. Of the twenty-two planes that made it, only those whose pilots reported no mechanical problems were allowed to go on. The others were shunted aside.
After having our plane serviced, we flew on to Alameda Naval Air Station in Oakland . As I came in for final approach, we saw it! I excitedly called the rest of the crew to take a look. There below us was a huge aircraft carrier. It was the USS Hornet, and it looked so gigantic! Man, I had never even seen a carrier until this moment. There were already two B-25s parked on the flight deck. Now we knew! My heart was racing, and I thought about how puny my plane would look on board this mighty ship. As soon as we landed and taxied off the runway, a jeep pulled in front of me with a big "Follow Me" sign on the back. We followed it straight up to the wharf, alongside the towering Hornet. All five of us were looking up and just in awe, scarcely believing the size of this thing. As we left the plane, there was already a Navy work crew swarming around attaching cables to the lifting rings on top of the wings and the fuselage. As we walked towards our quarters, I looked back and saw them lifting my plane up into the air and swing it over the ship's deck. It looked so small and lonely.
Later that afternoon, all crews met with Colonel Doolittle and he gave last minute assignments. He told me to go to the Presidio and pick up two hundred extra "C" rations. I saluted, turned, and left, not having any idea where the Presidio was, and not exactly sure what a "C" ration was. I commandeered a Navy staff car and told the driver to take me to the Presidio, and he did. On the way over, I realized that I had no written signed orders and that this might get a little sticky. So in I walked into the Army supply depot and made my request, trying to look poised and confident. The supply officer asked "What is your authorization for this request, sir?" I told him that I could not give him one. "And what is the destination?" he asked. I answered, "The aircraft carrier, Hornet, docked at Alameda ." He said, "Can you tell me who ordered the rations, sir?" And I replied with a smile, "No, I cannot." The supply officers huddled together, talking and glanced back over towards me. Then he walked back over and assured me that the rations would be delivered that afternoon. Guess they figured that something big was up. They were right. The next morning we all boarded the ship.
Trying to remember my naval etiquette, I saluted the Officer of the Deck and said "Lt. McElroy, requesting permission to come aboard." The officer returned the salute and said "Permission granted." Then I turned aft and saluted the flag. I made it, without messing up. It was April 2, and in full sunlight, we left San Francisco Bay . The whole task force of ships, two cruises, four destroyers, and a fleet oiler, moved slowly with us under the Golden Gate Bridge . Thousands of people looked on. Many stopped their cars on the bridge, and waved to us as we passed underneath. I thought to myself, I hope there aren't any spies up there waving.
Once at sea, Doolittle called us together. "Only a few of you know our destination, and you others have guessed about various targets. Gentlemen, your target is Japan !" A sudden cheer exploded among the men. "Specifically, Yokohama , Tokyo , Nagoya , Kobe , Nagasaki and Osaka . The Navy task force will get us as close as possible and we'll launch our planes. We will hit our targets and proceed to airfields in China ." After the cheering stopped, he asked again, if any of us desired to back out, no questions asked. Not on did, not one. Then the ship's Captain then went over the intercom to the whole ship's company. The loudspeaker blared, "The destination is Tokyo !" A tremendous cheer broke out from everyone on board. I could hear metal banging together and wild screams from down below decks. It was quite a rush! I felt relieved actually. We finally knew where we were going.
I set up quarters with two Navy pilots, putting my cot between their two bunks. They couldn't get out of bed without stepping on me. It was just fairly cozy in there, yes it was. Those guys were part of the Torpedo Squadron Eight and were just swell fellows. The rest of the guys bedded down in similar fashion to me, some had to sleep on bedrolls in the Admiral's chartroom. As big as this ship was, there wasn't any extra room anywhere. Every square foot had a purpose... A few days later we discovered where they had an ice cream machine!
There were sixteen B-25s tied down on the flight deck, and I was flying number 13. All the carrier's fighter planes were stored away helplessly in the hangar deck. They couldn't move until we were gone. Our Army mechanics were all on board, as well as our munitions loaders and several back up crews, in case any of us got sick or backed out. We settled into a daily routine of checking our planes. The aircraft were grouped so closely together on deck that it wouldn't take much for them to get damaged. Knowing that my life depended on this plane, I kept a close eye on her.
Day after day, we met with the intelligence officer and studied our mission plan. Our targets were assigned, and maps and objective folders were furnished for study. We went over approach routes and our escape route towards China . I never studied this hard back at Trinity. Every day at dawn and at dusk the ship was called to general quarters and we practiced finding the quickest way to our planes. If at any point along the way, we were discovered by the enemy fleet, we were to launch our bombers immediately so the Hornet could bring up its fighter planes. We would then be on our own, and try to make it to the nearest land, either Hawaii or Midway Island .
Dr. Thomas White, a volunteer member of plane number 15, went over our medical records and gave us inoculations for a whole bunch of diseases that hopefully I wouldn't catch. He gave us training sessions in emergency first aid, and lectured us at length about water purification and such. Tom, a medical doctor, had learned how to be a gunner just so he could go on this mission. We put some new tail guns in place of the ones that had been taken out to save weight. Not exactly functional, they were two broom handles, painted black. The thinking was they might help scare any Jap fighter planes. Maybe, maybe not.
On Sunday, April 14, we met up with Admiral Bull Halsey's task force just out of Hawaii and joined into one big force. The carrier Enterprise was now with us, another two heavy cruisers, four more destroyers an another oiler. We were designated as Task Force 16. It was quite an impressive sight to see, and represented the bulk of what was left of the U.S. Navy after the devastation of Pearl Harbor . There were over 10,000 Navy personnel sailing into harm's way, just to deliver us sixteen Army planes to the Japs, orders of the President.
As we steamed further west, tension was rising as we drew nearer and nearer to Japan . Someone thought of arming us with some old ...45 pistols that they had on board. I went through that box of 1911 pistols, they were in such bad condition that I took several of them apart, using the good parts from several useless guns until I built a serviceable weapon. Several of the other pilots did the same. Admiring my "new" pistol, I held it up, and thought about my old Model-T.
Colonel Doolittle called us together on the flight deck. We all gathered round, as well as many Navy personnel. He pulled out some medals and told us how these friendship medals from the Japanese government had been given to some of our Navy officers several years back. And now the Secretary of the Navy had requested us to return them. Doolittle wired them to a bomb while we all posed for pictures. Something to cheer up the folks back home!
I began to pack my things for the flight, scheduled for the 19th. I packed some extra clothes and a little brown bag that Aggie had given me, inside were some toilet items and a few candy bars. No letters or identity cards were allowed, only our dog-tags. I went down to the wardroom to have some ice cream and settle up my mess bill. It only amounted to $5 a day and with my per diem of $6 per day, I came out a little ahead. By now, my Navy pilot roommates were about ready to get rid of me, but I enjoyed my time with them. They were alright. Later on, I learned that both of them were killed at the Battle of Midway. They were good men. Yes, very good men.
Colonel Doolittle let each crew pick our own target. We chose the Yokosuka Naval Base about twenty miles from Tokyo . We loaded 1450 rounds of ammo and four 500-pound bombs... A little payback, direct from Ellis County, Texas! We checked and re-checked our plane several times. Everything was now ready. I felt relaxed, yet tensed up at the same time. Day after tomorrow, we will launch when we are 400 miles out. I lay in my cot that night, and rehearsed the mission over and over in my head. It was hard to sleep as I listened to sounds of the ship.
Early the next morning, I was enjoying a leisurely breakfast, expecting another full day on board, and I noticed that the ship was pitching and rolling quite a bit this morning, more than normal. I was reading through the April 18th day plan of the Hornet, and there was a message in it which said, "From the Hornet to the Army - Good luck, good hunting, and God bless you." I still had a large lump in my throat from reading this, when all of a sudden, the intercom blared, "General Quarters, General Quarters, All hands man your battle stations! Army pilots, man your planes!!!" There was instant reaction from everyone in the room and food trays went crashing to the floor. I ran down to my room jumping through the hatches along the way, grabbed my bag, and ran as fast as I could go to the flight deck. I met with my crew at the plane, my heart was pounding. Someone said, "What's going on?" The word was that the Enterprise had spotted an enemy trawler. It had been sunk, but it had transmitted radio messages. We had been found out!
The weather was crummy, the seas were running heavy, and the ship was pitching up and down like I had never seen before. Great waves were crashing against the bow and washing over the front of the deck. This wasn't going to be easy! Last minute instructions were given. We were reminded to avoid non-military targets, especially the Emperor's Palace. Do not fly to Russia , but fly as far west as possible, land on the water and launch our rubber raft. This was going to be a one-way trip! We were still much too far out and we all knew that our chances of making land were somewhere between slim and none. Then at the last minute, each plane loaded an extra ten 5-gallon gas cans to give us a fighting chance of reaching China .
We all climbed aboard, started our engines and warmed them up, just feet away from the plane in front of us and the plane behind us. Knobby, Campbell , Bourgeois and me in the front, Williams, the gunner was in the back, separated from us by a big rubber gas tank. I called back to Williams on the intercom and told him to look sharp and don't take a nap! He answered dryly, "Don't worry about me, Lieutenant. If they jump us, I'll just use my little black broomsticks to keep the Japs off our tail."
The ship headed into the wind and picked up speed. There was now a near gale force wind and water spray coming straight over the deck. I looked down at my instruments as my engines revved up. My mind was racing. I went over my mental checklist, and said a prayer? God please, help us! Past the twelve planes in front of us, I strained to see the flight deck officer as he leaned into the wind and signaled with his arms for Colonel Doolittle to come to full power. I looked over at Knobby and we looked each other in the eye. He just nodded to me and we both understood.
With the deck heaving up and down, the deck officer had to time this just right. Then I saw him wave Doolittle to go, and we watched breathlessly to see what happened. When his plane pulled up above the deck, Knobby just let out with, "Yes! Yes!" The second plane, piloted by Lt. Hoover , appeared to stall with its nose up and began falling toward the waves. We groaned and called out, "Up! Up! Pull it up!" Finally, he pulled out of it, staggering back up into the air, much to our relief! One by one, the planes in front of us took off. The deck pitched wildly, 60 feet or more, it looked like. One plane seemed to drop down into the drink and disappeared for a moment, then pulled back up into sight. There was sense of relief with each one that made it. We gunned our engines and started to roll forward. Off to the right, I saw the men on deck cheering and waving their covers! We continued inching forward, careful to keep my left main wheel and my nose wheel on the white guidelines that had been painted on the deck for us. Get off a little bit too far left and we go off the edge of the deck. A little too far to the right and our wing-tip will smack the island of the ship. With the best seat on the ship, we watched Lt. Bower take off in plane number 12, and I taxied up to the starting line, put on my the brakes and looked down to my left. My main wheel was right on the line. Applied more power to the engines, and I turned my complete attention to the deck officer on my left, who was circling his paddles. Now my adrenaline was really pumping! We went to full power, and the noise and vibration inside the plane went way up. He circled the paddles furiously while watching forward for the pitch of the deck. Then he dropped them, and I said, "Here We Go!" I released the brakes and we started rolling forward, and as I looked down the flight-deck you could see straight down into the angry churning water. As we slowly gained speed, the deck gradually began to pitch back up. I pulled up and our plane slowly strained up and away from the ship. There was a big cheer and whoops from the crew, but I just felt relieved and muttered to myself, "Boy, that was short!"
We made a wide circle above our fleet to check our compass headings and get our bearings. I looked down as we passed low over one of our cruisers and could see the men on deck waving to us. I dropped down to low level, so low we could see the whitecap waves breaking. It was just after 0900, there were broken clouds at 5,000 feet and visibility of about thirty miles due to haze or something. Up ahead and barely in sight, I could see Captain Greening, our flight leader, and Bower on his right wing. Flying at 170 mph, I was able to catch up to them in about 30 minutes. We were to stay in this formation until reaching landfall, and then break on our separate ways. Now we settled in for the five hour flight. Tokyo , here we come!
Williams was in the back emptying the extra gas cans into the gas tank as fast as we had burned off enough fuel. He then punched holes in the tins and pushed then out the hatch against the wind. Some of the fellows ate sandwiches and other goodies that the Navy had put aboard for us... I wasn't hungry. I held onto the controls with a firm grip as we raced along westward just fifty feet above the cold rolling ocean, as low as I dared to fly. Being so close to the choppy waves gave you a true sense of speed. Occasionally our windshield was even sprayed with a little saltwater. It was an exhilarating feeling, and I felt as though the will and spirit of our whole country was pushing us along. I didn't feel too scared, just anxious. There was a lot riding on this thing, and on me.
As we began to near land, we saw an occasional ship here and there. None of them close enough to be threatening, but just the same, we were feeling more edgy. Then at 1330 we sighted land, the Eastern shore of Honshu . With Williams now on his guns in the top turret and Campbell on the nose gun, we came ashore still flying low as possible, and were surprised to see people on the ground waving to us as we flew in over the farmland. It was beautiful countryside.
Campbell, our navigator, said, "Mac, I think we're going to be about sixty miles too far north. I'm not positive, but pretty sure." I decided that he was absolutely right and turned left ninety degrees, went back just offshore and followed the coast line south. When I thought we had gone far enough, I climbed up to two thousand feet to find out where we were. We started getting fire from anti-aircraft guns. Then we spotted Tokyo Bay , turned west and put our nose down diving toward the water. Once over the bay, I could see our target, Yokosuka Naval Base. Off to the right there was already smoke visible over Tokyo . Coming in low over the water, I increased speed to 200 mph and told everyone, "Get Ready!"
When we were close enough, I pulled up to 1300 feet and opened the bomb doors. There were furious black bursts of anti-aircraft fire all around us, but I flew straight on through them, spotting our target, the torpedo works and the dry-docks. I saw a big ship in the dry-dock just as we flew over it. Those flak bursts were really getting close and bouncing us around, when I heard Bourgeois shouting, "Bombs Away!" I couldn't see it, but Williams had a bird's eye view from the back and he shouted jubilantly, "We got an aircraft carrier! The whole dock is burning!" I started turning to the south and strained my neck to look back and at that moment saw a large crane blow up and start falling over!... Take that! There was loud yelling and clapping each other on the back. We were all just ecstatic, and still alive! But there wasn't much time to celebrate. We had to get out of here and fast! When we were some thirty miles out to sea, we took one last look back at our target, and could still see huge billows of black smoke. Up until now, we had been flying for Uncle Sam, but now we were flying for ourselves.
We flew south over open ocean, parallel to the Japanese coast all afternoon. We saw a large submarine apparently at rest, and then in another fifteen miles, we spotted three large enemy cruisers headed for Japan . There were no more bombs, so we just let them be and kept on going. By late afternoon, Campbell calculated that it was time to turn and make for China . Across the East China Sea , the weather out ahead of us looked bad and overcast. Up until now we had not had time to think much about our gasoline supply, but the math did not look good. We just didn't have enough fuel to make it!
Each man took turns cranking the little hand radio to see if we could pick up the promised radio beacon. There was no signal. This is not good. The weather turned bad and it was getting dark, so we climbed up. I was now flying on instruments, through a dark misty rain. Just when it really looked hopeless of reaching land, we suddenly picked up a strong tailwind. It was an answer to a prayer. Maybe just maybe, we can make it!
In total darkness at 2100 hours, we figured that we must be crossing the coastline, so I began a slow, slow climb to be sure of not hitting any high ground or anything. I conserved as much fuel as I could, getting real low on gas now. The guys were still cranking on the radio, but after five hours of hand cranking with aching hands and backs, there was utter silence. No radio beacon! Then the red light started blinking, indicating twenty minutes of fuel left. We started getting ready to bail out. I turned the controls over to Knobby and crawled to the back of the plane, past the now collapsed rubber gas tank. I dumped everything out of my bag and repacked just what I really needed, my .45 pistol, ammunition, flashlight, compass, medical kit, fishing tackle, chocolate bars, peanut butter and crackers. I told Williams to come forward with me so we could all be together for this. There was no other choice. I had to get us as far west as possible, and then we had to jump.
At 2230 we were up to sixty-five hundred feet. We were over land but still above the Japanese Army in China . We couldn't see the stars, so Campbell couldn't get a good fix on our position. We were flying on fumes now and I didn't want to run out of gas before we were ready to go. Each man filled his canteen, put on his Mae West life jacket and parachute, and filled his bag with rations, those "C" rations from the Presidio. I put her on auto-pilot and we all gathered in the navigator's compartment around the hatch in the floor. We checked each other's parachute harness. Everyone was scared, without a doubt. None of us had ever done this before! I said, "Williams first, Bourgeois second, Campbell third, Knobloch fourth, and I'll follow you guys! Go fast, two seconds apart! Then count three seconds off and pull your rip-cord!"
We kicked open the hatch and gathered around the hole looking down into the blackness. It did not look very inviting! Then I looked up at Williams and gave the order, "JUMP!!!" Within seconds they were all gone. I turned and reached back for the auto-pilot, but could not reach it, so I pulled the throttles back, then turned and jumped. Counting quickly, thousand one, thousand two, thousand three, I pulled my rip-cord and jerked back up with a terrific shock. At first I thought that I was hung on the plane, but after a few agonizing seconds that seemed like hours, realized that I was free and drifting down. Being in the total dark, I was disoriented at first but figured my feet must be pointed toward the ground. I looked down through the black mist to see what was coming up. I was in a thick mist or fog, and the silence was so eerie after nearly thirteen hours inside that noisy plane. I could only hear the whoosh, whoosh sound of the wind blowing through my shroud lines, and then I heard a loud crash and explosion. My plane!
Looking for my flashlight, I groped through my bag with my right hand, finally pulled it out and shined it down toward the ground, which I still could not see. Finally I picked up a glimmer of water and thought I was landing in a lake. We're too far inland for this to be ocean. I hope! I relaxed my legs a little, thinking I was about to splash into water and would have to swim out, and then bang. I jolted suddenly and crashed over onto my side. Lying there in just a few inches of water, I raised my head and put my hands down into thick mud. It was rice paddy! There was a burning pain, as if someone had stuck a knife in my stomach. I must have torn a muscle or broke something.
I laid there dazed for a few minutes, and after a while struggled up to my feet. I dug a hole and buried my parachute in the mud. Then started trying to walk, holding my stomach, but every direction I moved the water got deeper. Then, I saw some lights off in the distance. I fished around for my flashlight and signaled one time. Sensing something wrong, I got out my compass and to my horror saw that those lights were off to my west. That must be a Jap patrol! How dumb could I be! Knobby had to be back to my east, so I sat still and quiet and did not move.
It was a cold dark lonely night. At 0100 hours I saw a single light off to the east. I flashed my light in that direction, one time. It had to be Knobby! I waited a while, and then called out softly, "Knobby?" And a voice replied "Mac, is that you?". Thank goodness, what a relief! Separated by a wide stream, we sat on opposite banks of the water communicating in low voices. After daybreak Knobby found a small rowboat and came across to get me. We started walking east toward the rest of the crew and away from that Japanese patrol. Knobby had cut his hip when he went through the hatch, but it wasn't too awful bad.
We walked together toward a small village and several Chinese came out to meet us, they seemed friendly enough. I said, "Luchu hoo megwa fugi! Luchu hoo megwa fugi!" meaning, "I am an American! I am an American!" Later that morning we found the others. Williams had wrenched his knee when he landed in a tree, but he was limping along just fine. There were hugs all around. I have never been so happy to see four guys in all my life!
Well, the five of us eventually made it out of China with the help of the local Chinese people and the Catholic missions along the way. They were all very good to us, and later they were made to pay terribly for it, so we found out afterwards. For a couple of weeks we traveled across country. Strafed a couple of times by enemy planes, we kept on moving, by foot, by pony, by car, by train, and by airplane. But we finally made it to India .
I did not make it home for the baby's birth. I stayed on their flying a DC-3 "Gooney Bird" in the China-Burma-India Theatre for the next several months. I flew supplies over the Himalaya Mountains, or as we called it, over "The Hump" into China . When B-25s finally arrived in India , I flew combat missions over Burma , and then later in the war, flew a B-29 out of the Marianna Islands to bomb Japan again and again.
After the war, I remained in the Air Force until 1962, when I retired from the service as a Lt. Colonel, and then came back to Texas , my beautiful Texas . First moving to Abilene and then we settled in Lubbock , where Aggie taught school at MacKenzie Junior High. I worked at the S & R Auto Supply, once again in an atmosphere of machinery, oil and grease.
I lived a good life and raised two wonderful sons that I am very proud of. I feel blessed in many ways. We have a great country, better than most folks know. It is worth fighting for. Some people call me a hero, but I have never thought of myself that way, no. But I did serve in the company of heroes. What we did, will never leave me. It will always be there in my fondest memories. I will always think of the fine and brave men that I was privileged to serve with. Remember us, for we were soldiers once and young. With the loss of all aircraft, Doolittle believed that the raid had been a failure, and that he would be court-martialed upon returning to the states. Quite to the contrary, the raid proved to be a tremendous boost to American morale, which had plunged following the Pearl Harbor attack. It also caused serious doubts in the minds of Japanese war planners. They in turn recalled many seasoned fighter plane units back to defend the home islands, which resulted in Japan's weakened air capabilities at the upcoming Battle of Midway and other South Pacific campaigns.
Edgar "Mac" Mc Elroy, Lt. Col., U.S.A.F. (Ret.) passed away at his residence in Lubbock, Texas early on the morning of Friday, April 4, 2003.
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