Archive for the ‘Grandchildren’ category
February 14, 2019
WORDS FROM W.W. February 14, 2019
One year ago I hopped on a few planes heading from Denver to Houston to Charlotte to Charleston, West Virginia. It was Valentine’s Day, but bittersweet in many ways. I had talked to my sister on Monday night, February 12, and she told me that Dad was probably in his final hours. I went online and bought a plane ticket that left very early on the 14th.
About five o’clock in the afternoon I entered his hospital room and stood by his bed. My sister said, “Dad, there’s someone special here to see you!”, and he opened his eyes and looked at me.
The words came out as a whisper, and yet they were the words he would always say to me when I would call him on Sunday evenings.
“Well, hi son!”
“Hi, Pops!”
Nothing else was said. His dinner tray was in front of him, but he had no appetite. My sister coaxed him into eating some of the butterscotch pudding and maybe a couple of bites of mashed potatoes, but he was in his final hours of a long steady life. He held my hand in those moments when my sister, Rena, slowly urged each spoonful into his mouth.
My dad was 89, four months short of hitting the 9-0 mark! I was thankful that I had a few hours with him before he crossed over. Rena and I sat there and talked about this, that, and the other as he drifted in and out.
St. Mary’s Hospital had become like a second home for him, kind of like a time share! His heart episodes and cancer treatments- mostly for skin cancers- had made him a “frequent flyer” of St. Mary’s. His grandson was now the supervisor of the floor Dad was a patient on. Dad knew doctors, nurses and radiation technicians and assistants. There was a sense of loss filtering through the hospital as word spread that he was close to passing on.
When you sit by your dad’s bed and realize his time is short a flood of thoughts and memories race through your mind. There’s the thoughts of when the funeral gathering will be…even though he hasn’t passed yet. There’s the “listing” in your mind of who needs to be informed about it.
But then there’s the memories and pictures. For some reason the picture of Dad having his hand on the back of my bicycle as I learned how to ride it came to the front of my mind. I was the baby of the three kids. He already had taught two others to ride bikes…and they had survived the experience. I was in good hands, or would I say, my bike was held upright by a good hand!
Then there’s the memory of Dad teaching me how to drive our 1966 Chrysler Newport in the back parking lot of Ironton Junior High School. He was standing outside the car giving me directions.
“Turn! Turn!”
And I did! I turned the steering wheel with such power and effort that the power steering fluid burst! I can still see his expression of frustration. He didn’t voice any expletives, but I’m sure he thought of a few!
And in the last year of his life while I was back visiting I had driven him to the eye specialist, and while we were there Rena called me to tell me that Dad was suppose to have gone to the Emergency Room the day before but he hadn’t told anyone. He had just celebrated his 89th birthday and didn’t want to spoil the festivities for the others…not, mind you, for himself! He knew a cake was coming to Wyngate, his senior adult apartment complex, and wanted it to happen for the residents.
As I’m driving him to St. Mary’s he says to me, “Bill, let’s stop at Wendy’s and get something to eat!” And so we pull into the Wendy’s about a mile from St. Mary’s and have a cheeseburger and fries before I deliver him to the ER. The next day he had surgery!
A year ago, as I held his hand, I realized that the strong hand on the back of bicycle was now too weak to hold a spoon and the man who modeled what being a father means was drawing near to his heavenly Father.
I think back to those few closing hours of his life and know that I have been very, very blessed!
Categories: children, Death, Grace, Grandchildren, Humor, love, Parenting, Pastor, Story, Uncategorized
Tags: 1966 Chrysler Newport, dying, elderly, elderly parents, final hours, last words, memories, parents, senior adults, senior citizens, St. Mary's Hospital, Valentine's Day, Wyngate
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February 3, 2019
WORDS FROM W.W. February 3, 2019
Yesterday was nice and sunny here in Colorado Springs- about 60 degrees, in case anyone in the East and Midwest is wondering- so I took a walk. I went past the Liberty High School parking lot and noticed a young lady being taught how to drive. Her mom was giving her instructions and she slowly made a loop around. Whenever she made a turn she almost came to a complete stop as the tires were redirected. Her mom had her park in one of the parking spaces and it took her three times of going forward and then backwards before she put the Subaru in the spot.
She was being extremely, extremely, really extremely careful! The question occurred to me as I watched this from the hillside overlooking the school, “when will she stop being careful?” Will there be a point where she will begin exiting the school parking lot at the end of a school day driving like a bat out of hell?
Our three year old granddaughter is determined. Otherwise known as being stubborn! There’s been a few times when she’s been given a cup of juice to drink and she grabs it like a Black Friday 5 A.M. shopper at Walmart! The juice goes every which way, sloshing to freedom on the table, chair, and floor. Sippy cups have made her reckless! They’ve taught her to proceed carefree! Perhaps when she’s five she will discover the relevance of carefulness for her life…cautious and controlled now to avoid spills and cleanups later.
Being careful appears and disappears like the fog along the Ohio River. Someone runs down the driveway to pick up the morning newspaper, trips and falls on a spot of ice, and breaks their arm. Another person, an elderly woman, walks with heightened fear taking each step slowly as if she’s on a tightrope. Her fear of breaking a hip has made her careful, whereas the first person has learned the hard way that there are times to slow down.
Working quite frequently with middle schoolers, I am amazed at how so many of them now have cell phones…without protective cases! A thirteen year old’s cell phone without a protective case is an accident waiting to happen! Little Jimmy, who races through the hallways between classes, now has an iPhone that has no many cracks in it there’s no way he can make out what anything on the screen says.
Careful or without a care, so much of our lives get spent at one end or the other of the pendulum.
I was surprised to discover that the Bible uses the word “careful” 120 times. the advice of Ephesians 5:15 is simple and clear. “Be very careful, then, how you live – not as unwise but as wise!”
Reckless behavior has its consequences. Decisions not thought through will have negative results. Doing something stupid has the potential to do damage for years to come. Here in Colorado we have had several devastating fires in the past decade. Last June’s Spring Creek fire burned over 108,000 acres and destroyed 141 homes. It was caused by a man who has been charged with arson. One moment of stupidity caused damage that will take decades to undo.
Scripture keeps reminding us to be careful in our words and actions. When something is said or put into print or onto social media it can’t be undone. It’s there, and will be there! Being careful is associated with being wise!
We need not be as careful as the young lady inching her Subaru along in the school parking lot, but so often we resemble our granddaughter, sitting in the splashes of our rash decisions.
Categories: Bible, children, Christianity, Community, Freedom, Grace, Grandchildren, Humor, Jesus, Parenting, Pastor, Story, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: being careful, careful, Ephesians 5:15, iPhones, learning to drive, mistakes, rash decisions, rushing, Sippy cup, the consequences of our actions, thinking through things, wisdom
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January 27, 2019
WORDS FROM W.W. January 27, 2019
I can remember my Papaw Helton telling about his experience with a chiropractor.
“He reached down there and all of a sudden gave my leg a jerk and I said ‘Lord!!!!! Have mercy!’ And then he says to me, ‘Mr. Helton, do you want to come back tomorrow and I can adjust you some more?’ Lord, have mercy…no!”
His retelling of his chiropractor visit probably influenced me for a few decades. I did go to a chiropractor about 18 years ago for a couple of times, but not since…until last week! Back muscle spasms brought me to the point where I was willing to see if a chiropractor visit could be “all its cracked up to be!”
My daughter and son-in-law are patients of Dr. Henry and had encouraged me to give him a try. So I went, a little anxious, but also with my lower back in need of some help.
Chiropractors have always been suspect in the minds of some medical physicians. But let’s face it! Physicians have been a bit prone to prescribing too many pills. So I went into my first appointment with an open mind.
After x-rays and talking to me Dr. Henry had me position myself on the bench/table and CRACK!
“That cooperated nicely, Bill! Yes, it did!”
“Okay!” I didn’t know what else to say. I assumed the cracking sound was a good thing, not like a peanut shell being cracked open and disposed of!
“Take another deep breath and let it out. Okay!”
CRACK!
“Very nice! Very nice!Let’s have you turn on your right side for me.”
It was comforting to know that the two cracks had not paralyzed me, so I turned to the side and got positioned like a high school wrestler about to be pinned to the mat.
CRACK!
“That went nicely, Bill!”
“It did?”
“Yes, so what I want you to do is ice it some today and come back either tomorrow or Thursday and we’ll give you another adjustment. How’s that sound?” I had visions of my Papaw Helton saying “Lord!!!! Have mercy!”, but I believe I’m better. I realize I’m not 20 anymore, but I’m also extremely active for a guy three months away from Medicare.
Yesterday our basketball teams (V, JV, and C) went bowling and only three others in our group of 30 had higher scores than me. The boys razzed me the whole time because of a little skip I take after I release the ball, but at least my ball hit pins at the end as oppose to theirs! Perhaps they need to get a few adjustments!
I see Dr. Henry again in two weeks for another few jerks. It’s a plot, shall we say, with many twists and turns!
“Lord!!!!! Have mercy!”
Categories: children, coaching, Freedom, Grandchildren, Humor, Parenting, Story, Teamwork, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: adjustment, back cracked, back problems, chiropractor, chiropractory, flexibility, medicine, physician
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December 23, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. December 23, 2018
My wife is an amazing woman, great mom, blessed grandmother, who agreed to journey with me almost 40 years ago.
She is also frugal in her spending habits, including the multiple fake wedding rings she lays by the kitchen sink, none costing more than ten bucks, but all looking like the real deal from Helzberg Diamonds.
Carol is a challenge to buy a Christmas present for. She has already waved a spatula in my face several times and said, “Don’t buy me anything for Christmas!!!”
“Yes, dear!”
“I mean it, Bill Wolfe!” When she uses my first and last names it’s like I’m standing in front of the judge, receiving conditions of my probation.
She’s like her mom, who when asked what she would like for Christmas would reply, “Well…ahhh…I could always use a new spatula!” Spatulas seem to be a big thing in Carol’s family…for cooking and warning!
So I’m in a quandary! Do I risk a spatula spanking and buy something, or adhere to her demands and not buy her a gift? Is there a third option, like buying a gift but pretending it’s from a mystery person? It could come from Amazon Prime, with no name attached!
Carol’s birthday occurred just two weeks ago. It creates another challenge. She accepted the new John Grisham novel as a birthday present, but Grisham has not written another book in the last two weeks to fill the Christmas void.
So what are my other options?
I could invite her to watch Hallmark Christmas movies all day…and actually watch one with her. But should my personal pain be a part of the gift-giving? And I’m not sure I could watch the movie and not make sarcastic comments!
I could take her out for dinner, but we usually go out for dinner once or twice a week as it is. It’s not a gift, but rather our routine.
So what could I give her that she would appreciate and enjoy?
A hug and a kiss would be a start. A hug with meaning and commitment, not too tight because of our increasingly fragile bodies, but an embrace that says “I am blessed to be your spouse!” And a kiss, preceded by a Tic-Tac to cancel out my coffee breath! She would see that as a gift!
A walk around the block, punctuated by conversation about things that interest her and thoughts that keep filtering through her mind.
Help in the kitchen preparing for the family to gather on Christmas afternoon. That would be seen as an appreciated gift, as long as I take directions from her and don’t free lance too much!
And maybe the best gift would be to sit back in the midst of the family and just be with them, watching the three grandkids discover the hidden treasures in Uncle David’s cellophane-wrapped ball (Now a Wolfe tradition each Christmas!), enjoying dinner together, and seeing surprised looks on young children’s faces as they open a pile of presents one by one.
Those are the things that will be gifts to Carol, moments and pictures that don’t take up space in the house, but space in her heart!
Maybe I can sneak a spatula in there somewhere!
Categories: Bible, children, Christmas, Freedom, Grandchildren, Humor, love, marriage, Parenting, Story, Uncategorized
Tags: Christmas gifts, Christmas presents, family, family memories, family stories, gift-giving, gifts, Hallmark Christmas movies, hugs and kisses, John Grisham, spatula, special gifts
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December 21, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. December 21, 2018
I’m substitute teaching today in a seventh grade social studies class. It’s test day, an unfair educational challenge in the opinion of most of the students, since it’s the last day before Christmas break.
I’ve observed the different “test personalities” emerging as the day has gone on. They’ve been covered up by various facial distortions and deer-in-headlights looks.
There’s the “clueless wonder”, the kid who thinks he’s all that but can’t remember his middle initial. Taking a test is his worst nightmare. He would rather gargle vinegar. Some of his classmates think he’s cool, but his intellectual stimulation is restricted to the depth of the latest SnapChat.
“The questioner” arises in the midst of my test information questions. When I say that each student is to complete the whole test and turn it in to the class basket, the questioner raises her hand and asks, “Do we have to complete the whole test?” A nod to answer. “And then what are we to do with the test when we complete it?” I point to the class basket. “Is that where we are to put the test when we’re done with the whole thing?”
I just stare as an answer. She gets the idea! The questioner may someday be on a Senate review panel asking 800 pages of questions to someone who will plead the fifth!
“The annoyer” makes sounds to distract people from the mission. He will drop his books, intentionally choose candy that involves loud noise-making wrappers, and disturb any sense of quiet and calm. It’s his purpose in life, or at least in seventh grade. As other students are trying to remember what the capital of Pennsylvania is he’s making squirrel sounds in his corner of the room.
“The Ivy Leaguer” focuses on every question and quickly remembers the correct answer from the twenty pages of notes that she has studied in preparation. Seventh grade is not a challenge for her. Her challenge is spending time with seventh graders.
“The nose picker” absentmindedly inserts his finger into his nostril and digs for treasure, which he then wipes on whatever is closest to him…pants, shirt, desk bottom, or flicking off onto the floor. His classmates rarely offer him a high-five!
“Miss Probation” is not adverse to being sent to the office. In fact, the office has a chair with her name on it. She knows everyone there on a first name basis. Next year in eighth grade her locker is likely to contain some forms off contraband.
“Mr. Bored” thinks it’s important to communicate his lack of enthusiasm about whatever it is he is studying. In his opinion, if it is studied at school it must be unimportant. If a cure for cancer was discovered and then studied in science class he would label it as boring. But have someone send him a 30 second video of a snowboarder wiping out on a 360…that is crucial entertainment for him!
“Miss Awkward” is at that age where nothing seems coordinated in life. She’s unsure of herself, and some of her classmates make her nervous. She’s afraid of being the butt of their jokes and the attention of their discussions. If she could disappear into the carpet she’d feel better. She kinda’ likes tests because each classmate is focused for a few minutes on their own work, not somebody else’s business.
“The Organizer” guides the class in doing a get well card for its teacher. She makes sure the chairs are stacked at the end of the day and helps the class get over the hurdles caused by the annoyer and Miss Probation. If the classroom was filled with students like her they might be able to cure world malnutrition. BUT there’s only one of her and the teacher is bummed out by that. The hope is that some of her classmates might see the purpose and passion in how she lives, but most of them can’t see past their cell phone screen.
BUT no one cheated, and that’s different from when I was in high school! Seventh grade test personalities are as diverse as the jelly belly’s in the teachers candy jar. It makes it…very interesting for the substitute!
Categories: children, coaching, Freedom, Grandchildren, Humor, Parenting, Story, Teamwork, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: 7th Grade, 7th Graders, annoying, personality, Seventh Grade, seventh grade boys, seventh grade girls, seventh graders, substitute teacher, substitute teaching, taking a test
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December 19, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. December 19, 2018
Thursday afternoon one of the seventh grade teachers at the middle school I substitute teach and coach at exclaimed to me, “We love your book!” I sent her the book draft in a Word Document and she had been reading a chapter each night with her two kids, a fifth grader and a sixth grader.
I replied, “That’s great to hear, because I got the rejection letter from the publishing company two days ago.” Her face announced her surprise.
That afternoon the seventh grade counselor, who I had given the first seven hard copy chapters to came to me and said, “I really like it!”
“That’s great to hear since I got the rejection letter two days ago.”
She frowned in disappointment.
The letter came from the managing editor who had given me his business card at the Colorado Christian Writer’s Conference last May and told me to send the book. It had taken them this long to get it to the top of the pile. (Publishing companies are piled high with submissions and only a trickle ever being published.)
I showed my rejection letter to my Starbucks friend, who is one of the writers and producers of Adventures In Odyssey. She read it and, in a matter of fact way, said, “As rejection letters go…this is a good rejection letter!”
“Huh???”
“It shows that they actually read it and he’s giving you three suggestions as to what to do to improve it and bring it to a point where it’s ready to be published.”
“Ohhh!” My self-esteem came back up from the basement. “Have you ever gotten a rejection letter?”
“Sure!” This writer/creator of the series, that my grandkids love to listen to, had also been rejected. Several other people have told me about J.K. Rowling, who got numerous turndowns before Harry Potter became a household name.
Rejections are stings that can make us strive for something better. After I had submitted my book draft to the publisher I went back through and revised it again. Since the rejection letter I’ve gone through and done another revision. My dear friends, Ed and Diana Stucky, are going through it again…for the third time helping with the editing and their ideas. Ed has reached out to a couple of friends in the publishing world for advice and suggestions.
Rejections can sometimes show us who will be there to help us keep moving forward. They can make us stronger, more determined, and more focused.
One of the suggestions from the managing editor of the publisher was to cut it down to between 80,000 and 100,000 words. I was at 114,000. After going through it again I’m down to 101,000 and figuring out what the next cut might be that will not effect the quality or flow of the story.
If nothing else comes from this writing I will always remember getting a phone call one night from my ten year old grandson.
“Granddad!”
“Yes, Jesse.”
“We like it! We like your book. Mommy just read the last chapter to us tonight, and we really like it!”
“Thank you, Jesse!”
Three months later I got another call.
“Granddad!”
“Yes, Jesse.”
“We finished your second book tonight and…we really liked it!”
And now they are waiting to read the third book, which I’m 20,000 words into, as I also continue to revise Book 1 and Book 2.
I may never get a letter from a publisher saying “We’d like to pursue this with you!”, but two late night phone calls are all the acceptance I really need!
Categories: children, Christianity, Community, Grace, Grandchildren, Humor, Pastor, Story, Teamwork, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: Adventures In Odyssey, Colorado Christian Writer's Conference, Disappointment, Encouragement, encouraging, encouraging words, getting published, plot, published works, publishers, rejected, rejection, trimming the story
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December 2, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. December 2, 2018
I was amazed and perplexed numerous times this past week, two opposite reactions in the same classroom. I taught 6th Grade Social Studies the whole week, a journey that began in the Inca Empire and ended in a Friday discovery of Canada.
Numerous students amazed me at their quest for excellence. After giving guidelines about a project related to the Incas, these students sought to raise the bar in terms of quality. They took seriously my statement: “If Mr. Smith (the school principal) came in and looked at your project would be say ‘This is awesome!’ or ‘What is this?’”
And then there were the students who sought to just get by. One of the directions said to use colored pencils or markers in the completing of images. One student asked, “Do we HAVE to use colored pencils?” He said it as if he was being asked to do a 24 hour work shift. I looked at him and replied, “So, what you’re really asking is ‘what is the minimum I have to do?’”
“Well….ah, no!”
At the end of the second day on the project some of the work was ready to be framed and sent to an art museum, and other ‘attempts’ at work made me shudder!
To one boy I said, “I can’t even read what you’ve written here. You need a class on penmanship.”
“What’s that?” he asked, puzzled.
“Exactly!”
It made me wonder about how some kids become so motivated to excel and others become so unmotivated and seek to just get by. One of my students this past week was a girl who ran cross-country for me this past fall. She’s about as tall as a grasshopper and about that wide, also! In each race she finished no worse than 3rd and always just a few steps behind the winner. She is a competitor who would be disappointed in herself if she did not give her best effort. Her Inca project was…you guessed it!…top notch!
On the other end of the spectrum was a project that was as barren as an Oklahoma corn field during the Dust Bowl years. I looked at the boy and with disappointed dismay in my voice said, “That’s it???” He looked upon at me as he finished his last chocolate do-nette and smiled. That WAS it!
How do some students become so self-motivated and others seem to think motivation is a sign of illness?
It is an intriguing subject to ponder. I talked to one of my Starbucks coffee friends yesterday about it. She has five children and they are all different. A couple are so self-motivated it’s scary, another couple are selectively motivated, and then another one wouldn’t be motivated to even get out of bed…ever!
I’m motivated to write some days and have no motivation to write on other days. Some days I’m highly motivated to exercise and on others I am so unmotivated that I’d even rather watch a Hallmark Christmas movie…okay, not that unmotivated!
I realize that some motivation comes from within, intrinsic in nature; and other motivation is extrinsic, coming from an outside force or person. But why is that intrinsic motivation so different for each person? Why are so many students willing to just get by?
Categories: children, coaching, Community, Freedom, Grandchildren, Humor, Nation, Parenting, Story, Teamwork, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: 6th grade, Excellence, intrinsic motivation, just getting by, motivated students, motivation, raising the bar, seeking to excel, self-motivated, unmotivated
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December 1, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. December 1, 2018
It’s been a week!
A week of sixth graders, that is! One of the sixth grade social studies teachers asked me to teach the full week for him as he recovered from a procedure done on one of his knees. Five days of teaching the future Einsteins, Feinsteins, and Non-Steins; smart ones and smart alecks!
Some names stood out to me after each 57 minute class period. They were the warts in the midst of a beautiful experience; the ones that the teacher can’t trust with a pair of scissors because they may cut the hair of the young lady sitting beside them…without her knowing! They are the ones who in hearing the words “You may work with a partner on this!” view it as giving permission to cause chaos, the ones who intimately know what the inside of their assistant principal’s office looks like!
So…I remember THEIR names! If I had an acronym of the phrase “Problem Child” I could put a name with almost every letter…Pete, Robert, Octavius, Bubba, etc.
The interesting thing is that I COULDN’T remember the names of younger brothers and sisters of students I’ve had in classes the last two years. After five days of having them I still can’t think of their first names. I’d ask a question and a hand would pop up from a boy with dark hair.
“Jill’s little brother!” I’d say, acknowledging him. He looked hurt and befuddled, as if his eighth grade sister had a more prominent place in life than him.
Question: “What does longitude measure?” Up comes the hand of a girl with a never-ending smile.
“Little Smith!” I bellow as I look at her. Her smile continues because she sees it as a badge of honor. Her sister, now a high school freshman, had told her stories about Mr. Wolfe. In fact, she was the one who made my last name sound French by pronouncing it “Wolf-ay”!
There were four or five other younger brothers and sisters whose first names escaped my memory. Of course, when I was growing up some of my older brother’s friends called me “Little Charlie” or, after being immersed in their high school Spanish class, “Carlos Pequeno!”
It was the first Spanish word I learned! I guess I’m a bit partial towards younger siblings. I’m the youngest of three, the one who got the hand-me-downs, like my brother’s bicycle all beaten and battered and shirts with mustard stains dotting the fabric.
If I have these sixth graders again I’ll graduate to calling them by their last name. That would be progress towards knowing their whole personality. The disturbing thing is that I only know the first names of the problem children, and I’ll make sure my youngest daughter (Our “Little”) has a list of names NOT to give any future grandchildren.
As one boy asked me, “Mr. Wolfe, do you remember my name?”
“Yes!” I respond, pausing for effect. “Starts with an ‘A’ and ends with a ‘G’!” He looks at me ready to correct my thinking, but I break in before he can say it.
“Annoying!”
He smiles, and, although he began the week filling out one of the letters on my acronym, we kinda’ like each other! I wonder if he has any younger siblings?
Categories: children, coaching, Community, Grandchildren, Humor, Parenting, Story, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: acronym, learning names, little brothers, little sisters, middle school, middle school boys, middle school students, middle school teachers, middle schoolers, names, nicknames, sixth grade, sixth graders, social studies, teaching sixth graders, younger brothers, younger sisters
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November 22, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. November 22, 2018
People often say that I don’t look like I’m just six months away from being eligible for Medicare. That’s nice to hear. After all, not too many of us get up in the morning with the goal of looking OLDER than we are!
Recently, however, I’m encountered a few situations where I realize I AM OLD! The most recent experience happened this morning when I opened up the newspaper, stuffed like a turkey with Black Friday store advertisements. I sorted through most of them and came to the ad from Best Buy.
This is the old part! You know you are old when you don’t know what half of the gadgets in the 16 page ad actually do. I recognized the washer and dryer, the frig, and a few of the vacuum cleaners, but other devices had me as clueless as I was in trigonometry class!
The good news in all of that is that if I don’t know what it is…I don’t yet know that I’m suppose to need it!
On to a different “old” subject”! About a week ago I bought new ear phones to listen to my Lawrence Welk music with. They are wireless- another term that mystifies me- and I opened up the instructions. THERE WERE NO WORDS! A sketched finger pointed to different buttons and tried to communicate the purpose of that button with the use of a picture.
GIVE ME SOME WORDS TO READ! I’m guessing it was a sign of how our culture doesn’t like to read anymore. We now seem to be a society that likes to communicate by using a finger!
In the Walmart Black Friday ad there was a whole page devoted to video games that shoot ‘em up, blow ‘em up, and run ‘em over. One tiny picture at the bottom of the next page advertised three books for toddlers. That was as close to a library as Walmart got!
So I’m feeling old. We bought a new vehicle almost two years ago, but I don’t know how to use half the fancy stuff on itl…and it has a thick manual with WORDS! The steering wheel has abbreviations instead of the whole word. Give me the letters “MN” and I know the state it’s referring to is Minnesota. Put those letters on my steering wheel and I haven’t a clue!
I’m just really, really old! Lord, have mercy! I’m turning into my Kentucky grandfather, Papaw Helton! Before I know it I’ll be sipping buttermilk at supper and wearing suspenders that hold my pants up all the way to my nipples!
Categories: children, Community, Death, Grandchildren, Humor, Parenting, Pastor, Story, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: Best Buy, Black Friday, Black Friday ads, ear buds, gadgets, high-tech, instruction manuals, Lawrence Welk, library, literary works, Old age, video games, wireless
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November 18, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. November 18, 2018
There are certain things that I once could do that I can no longer achieve, like touching the basketball rim (which I did back in my college days), not having to use the bathroom at least once during the night, and drinking Folger’s coffee without gagging!
And there are other things that I never did that I still don’t do! One of those is wearing black socks with athletic shoes. I just can’t do it! No matter what sports apparel logo is on the side of the sock…Adidas, Nike, Under Armor…I just can’t wear black socks while playing hoop or running a couple of miles.
It goes back to my growing up days. I was not very cool to begin with, but to wear a pair of black socks in P.E. class was to risk being seen as permanently uncool! Wearing black socks with tennis shoes was something my dad did! Plus, he’d have a pair of shorts on at the time…and would be mowing the lawn for the whole neighborhood to see! I stayed inside until he was done.
Dad would also go the other side of fashion un-coolness. He’d wear white socks with brown shoes! That was like the twin brother of “black socks and tennis shoes”!
At basketball practice yesterday there were 2 boys out of 28 wearing white socks…and one coach. Me! Everyone else was wearing black socks or multi-colored with designs. In 1972 it would have been seen as a picture of totally uncool boys. Now it’s the trend!
There are certain things in life that we just can’t adjust to. It’s like they are a part of our cultural DNA that we can’t get past. Like a redhead trying to become a brunette. After a while the red roots spring up to remind the person of who he still is.
“Y’all” still comes out of my mouth when referring to more than one person. “Why don’t y’all sit down for a few?” I can’t say “all of you” or even “you all.” They taste like sour milk coming out of mouth.
It took me a couple of months to not feel guilty when I bought a pack of Hanes black boxer-style underwear. For about sixty years I had worn J.C. Penney’s Towncraft tighty-whities! It wasn’t until after my mom- a Penney’s retiree- passed away that I risked wearing something different. I know, this is probably too much info, but I wear the tighty-whities still at nighttime.
Our understanding of what is cool is a strong tie, but our remembering of how things were also keeps its grip on us. One happens out of the fear of being unaccepted, and the other happens out of the desire to honor family and its sense of belonging.
In regards to black socks with tennis shoes, cool was more important than identifying with Pops, but in most other things family took preference.
Y’all understand what I’m talking about?
Categories: children, coaching, Community, Freedom, Grandchildren, Humor, love, marriage, Parenting, Story, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: being cool, black socks, tennis shoes, Tradition
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Words from WW Blog 