Encouraging

Looks are deceiving. A popular phrase most people have heard during their lifetime. It is however, a reflection of just how humans really respond to others. Most are "visual" human beings who seem
to let their thoughts by-pass their intellect (or "brains") as most of the locals would say.

Take for example the "visual" examples of two very famous men. Both from two very different walks of life.

What if Elvis Presley had listened to his eighth grade music teacher. He teacher thought he was terrible. The would-be-educator told the future King of Rock & Roll that he did not have an aptitude for singing and entertaining. Imagine...several #1 hit songs, movies, and a cult following decades after his death.  Of course, music is not considered a visual art, but no doubt the teacher
did not comprehend the talent in the "King."

One of the greatest tourist attractions for Memphis and Tennessee is Elvis' Graceland and surrounding property.

If Elvis had listend to his teacher, he might have never become one of the most famous musical icons in American history.

Another similar story can be found across the tracks of talent.

In his childhood years, Albert Einstein's mother was disturbed because of how long it took her son to talk. Later, in elementary school, his teacher thought he was mentally imballanced and a "foolish dreamer." One educator even asked him to drop out of class.

Later in life, while working as a patent clerk in Switzerland, he stated that he began to experience his miracle year. The young scientist earned a Doctorate degree and published several research papers, including the Special Theory of Relativity. the famous equation "e = mc2" unlocked mysteries of the Universe. In 1915, Einstein completed his General Theory of Relativity. In 1921 he was awarded the Nobel Prize in Physics.

Ultimately words can hurt or heal heal. Or, for those who have a healthy self-esteem, words can create a determination in a person who chooses to deny all the "visual" revelations.

The Holy Bible says in Pro 12:25, "An anxious heart weighs a man down, but a kind word cheers him up." And, 1Th 5:11 says, “Therefore encourage one another and build each other up”...

An encouraging word can go a long way. And, as my examples reveal, you never know what kind of an effect you will have on others around you. To be sure, it is best to encourage those whose paths you cross. Be an encourager

Write it Down!

Write that down! That is a statement that might not be used that much in the future. Thanks to modern technology, and advances in the computer industry and with the Internet, you might not be “writing” that down anymore. You will probably be typing that down...if your not already doing it.

With lap-tops, ipads, and even smart phones, you just might find that you rarely, if ever, need a pen and paper anymore. For middle-aged people like myself, that is not a habit I plan to get into. I still have my lap-top and would love to have a i-pad. I use to make notes on my iPhone, but it gave-up the ghost and, thinks to my current financial situation, I was forced to down-grade (theres a phrase you don't hear very often) to a flip-which I really love. But, I will always “write it down.”

Some friends have asked if I have thought of purchasing a e-reader. My response is, that, in my opinion, is a readers sacrilege. My quick response is that the books I read do not need batteries...to say the least. Before I go further, let me say for some of you who might be offended by my use of words, the definition of sacrilege is; the violation or injurious treatment of a sacred object. Can a book be considered, sacrilege.

This is not a history lesson in the printed word, but man has always used a hand-held writing instrument and a writing surface to transfer his thoughts to written form. We know that the earliest American's write on walls of caves, a birds feather was used to write on scrolls. And thanks to the invention of the printing press, civilization was well on it's way to having the printed word. By the way, according to Wikipedia, German, Johannes Gutenberg is credited for having invented the printing press. And yes, I do appreciate the written word and books as almost sacred. The bible, after all is a written wor.

There use to be a cigarette that was marketed just to women many years ago. I can't remember the name of the product, but I can remember the slogan they used to promote the female “smokes.” It was, “You've Come a Long Way, Baby.” I guess that is what we can say about writing and recording our words. We have come a long way from ancient writings on a cave wall to computers, tablets and smart phones allowing us to continue to “write it down.”

Before I go further, I will say ipads and e-readers are a good idea for students, if they ever catch on. Students can have their text-books down-loaded on one device. From elementary school to college to graduate school, students can get rid of their backpacks and messenger bags. They can trade them in for one device. Also, homework could be done without pen and paper. If the device has Internet access and e-mail, a student can read their assignment and then complete their assignment. Afterwards, they can e-mail it to their instructors. Once more, the instructors can grade their “papers” on the computer and e-mail it back to the student. Grades can even be sent the same way. This might be a practice that is being used, somewhat, these days. Copy right laws could possibly be hampering the process.

When I was going to college, even though I had a laptop, I took notes the old fashioned way, with pen and paper. However, my homework was completed on my laptop and emailed to my professors. This was a big difference from my first days of elementary education.

Which brings me to my earliest days of “writing it down.” When I was a student in Mrs. Hall fifth grade class, she required that we keep a journal of our homework assignments and the dates we completed our assignments. Also, we were required to write a one page summary in our journal telling what we felt we learned.

When I got to Jr. High School, I had a science teacher named Mr. Walters. He was a young, cool teacher who was a recent graduate of Western Kentucky University. We liked Mr. Walters I think in part because he was closer to our age and seemed to relate to use. But the one thing that I have never forgotten about my Anton Jr. High teacher is that he required us to take notes, every day of class. I still remember the first day he started us on our journey of note taking. He told the class, “ I am still your science teacher and I am still going to teach science, however; I am going to grade you on your note taking ability as well as your assignments.” We did not like the sound of that at first. It meant we were going to be graded on two fronts. But, as we got further into the school year, we found that we were actually learning a little more than usual. Many of use began to take more notes in our other classes. I think it made some of the teachers a little jealous.

Mr. Walters would give us tips on how to take notes and what to listen for. In his lectures, he would sometimes tell stories related to the science world. Just little tidbits that made the lecture more interesting. And then sometimes, he would get off the subject and tell an unrelated story or joke. Later , when he would grade our notes, he would tell use what was important and what we should have left out of our notes. He said, “I hope as many of you that can, will go to college. And if you do, you will need good note taking skills.

Now, let me stop here and say that most people I know or have read about that like to write, also like to read. Many popular authors; Steven King, John Grisham, J.K. Rowling or Patrica Cornwell, will tell you they also like to read.

It was at the same time that Mr. Walters required our note taking that I had an English teacher who required us to read a few books a write book reports for class. One I will never forget, as a matter of fact, I still have my copy of “Sounder.” A story about a sharecropper family and their dog, Sounder. It was a book written for my age group. It has since been made into a movie. It was my first time to read a book from cover to cover, but certainly not the last time. I am thankful that I had that experience in both those science and English classes.

Now on to my “write it down” experiences in high school. Unlike many of my friends, I did not attend the local public high school. Due to accessibility restrictions, I was forced to go to a private school. (Did I say forced?) You can be the judge of that later I guess.

The private school I attended was a Christian School. While a student there, we were required to go to chapel services and one of the classes (required) was a bible class. Our bible class teacher required us to take notes of the sermon during chapel and to take notes in our church's during the sermon on Sunday morning. This meant I could not skip church. And if we were absent on any given Wednesday, we had to ask our fellow students what the message was about and write a summary of what we were told. Also during high school, I had an English class where I was required to read such literature as George Orwell's, “Animal Farm.”

A little side story about that adventure was that I tried to bluff my way through it. It was about that time that I started working part-time at a Christian radio station...started by the school. I was having a bit of a problem learning to juggle my homework and night-time job. So I wrote a bogus review about Animal Farm. I wish I had kept a copy of that paper. It was so far removed from the “real thing” that I bet Orwell turned over in his grave. As I look back, I have a smile on my face. Because of how I tried to bluff my way through it and my good natured teacher, Bro. Head, who gave me a second chance to do my assignment over...with a lesser grade of course.

Well, I had the Christmas break to read Orwell's classic. And if I said I loved it, that would be an understatement. My teacher said that my paper was the best he had read. But, he was sorry that he could not give me the grade he wanted too because of the second chance. I think I have both paper-back and a hard-back versions of “Animal Farm” today in my library.

“Write it down” does not end with high school. I attended a small, two year community college right after high school. My best friend from elementary school to high and then part of college, attended a history class in college. I was so involved in taking notes, that I would also write down his jokes. But, I just wasn't interested. I did return to college many years later and earned a Bachelors of Science degree in Business Management.

Before that, I wanted to work full-time in radio and began pursuing a career in broadcasting. My dreams came true. I have not only worked in radio for over 30 years, but I actually worked at the radio station that had been my dream job since I was about 8-9 years old. I remember in the summer time, my mom would drive by WTTL as my future employer and good friend, Jerry-O would be hosting a call-in show, “Coalfield Comments.” Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think that my dreams would not only come true, but that I would one day host that same show. My prayers had been answered.

My journey into the land of broadcasting eventually took me from being a Disc Jockey to becoming a news reporter and then director. I was a one-man operation. Not something I really approved of, even in such a small town where opportunities to gather news is not that easy. But I had no formal training. I had helped out in the news department of various stations and did learn a little. As I look back, I realize that I was using the skills I had been trained to do since elementary school...taking notes.

My “write it down” abilities become more and more in depth. Everywhere I went, City Council, Fiscal Court, meetings, dinners, interviews...just to name a few, required me to take notes about the events so that I could write a news story about what had happened.

One story that will probably stay with me for the rest of my life, occurred in 1999. I was one of seven media witnesses to view the first execution of a Kentucky inmate by lethal injection. Talk about “writing it down.” They turned the lights out in the viewing room and then opened the curtains where we could see the inmate about to be executed. We were only allowed to have a pen and note pad, (provided by the state). I was sitting on the third row from the front. When the warden asked if he had any last words, I raided my hands so I could see from the dim light in the hallway how to write. But I froze. Not because I was overwhelmed by the event. Actually, the inmate said he was read for what was about to happen. I froze because I was wearing an arm band that got my attention and took it away from the execution. I was wearing a WWJD bracelet. I remember thinking that, “Jesus would not be out here, but inside the execution chamber ministering to the inmate.

I will never forget was at a city council meeting. As I pulled up to the front, I unzipped my jacket and took out my reporters notebook. Then I reached in for my pen. The meeting was just about to start when I realized I had left the one and only pen I had with me in my car. I even remember laying it on the passenger side seat. Well, panic began to set it. “What am I going to do,” I thought? I did not have time to go outside to get my pen. I was afraid I was going to miss something. Well, after years of learning what to listen for and what to write down, I thought this might not be that difficult. I was confident in myself of being a good listener and able to remember what I heard. Also, the Mayor's executive assistant provided a “media packet” at every meeting. It would contain an outline of the meeting and sometimes, details of some of the items on the outline. For example, there would be information in the packet pertaining to a tax increase, a departmental promotion, street closings, etc. This was enough information that, coupled with what I could remember from the meeting, I would be able to write my story. A side note, I did have a pocket tape recorder with me, and I did use it that one time. But, I always took pride in my ability to take notes and did not want to use a recorder unless I absolutely had to. As former presidential candidate, Ross Perot once said, the news media provides nothing but sound bites. I never agreed with that statement, it even angered me. However, if your a radio news reporter, your listeners would always appreciate a sound-bite of an event. So, the tape recorder did come in handy for that purpose from time-to-time.

I hope to get back into broadcasting one day, even if I have to find someone willing financially back my purchase of a station. Or, start my own Voice Tracks and Voice-Over business.

My “habit” of note taking has never left me. One day a friend and I were in Evansville. One of our favorite stops, since he and I both enjoy reading, is always Barnes and Noble. He and I have been going there ever since the place opened.

Not only do I enjoy reading, which has become a hobby of mine, but I also enjoy writing. I began doing my research in learning how to write by picking-up as many books as I could that gave tips on how to be a good writer. It was in one of those books that I learned that good writers always carry a notebook with them everywhere they go. One author even suggested a particular notebook called a, “Moleskin” book. No, it is not made of mole skin. That is just the commercial name for it. The author said that the book had lined, blank pages that could be used for note taking. The books come in pocket size and are hard back with an elastic strap to hold the book closed with not in use. So, I went to Barnes and Noble looking for one of these books. I could just imagine the store clerk giving me an odd look when I asked if they had any in stock. To my surprise, she said, “Yes we do. They are with the journals at the front of the store. So, I bought what has been my first of many since then. They are great for writing down ideas for stories. However, I never used it for taking notes for news stories.

Have you ever noticed how everyone will grab for their cell phone when one rings in a crowed room? Well, I am kind of the same way with writing. If someone was across a crowed room from me and yelled, “write it down” you would probably see me grab for my pen and notebook. A habit that I got into years ago.

As I look back, I wonder if God wasn't using the events of my past to groom me for my profession.

I can't seem to go anywhere without an urge to take notes or “write it down.” If I go to church, I take notes during the sermon. I have taken notes in Sunday School. I was once a member of the Kiwanis and would take notes of the meeting...and I wasn't the club secretary or required to take notes. I have even been known to take notes of the preachers message at a funeral.

Not being a news reporter right now, you would think that I would no longer have the urge to take notes, but I do.

Finally, writing this blog reminds me of my Grandmother. I use to spend a lot of time with her when I was in Jr. High and High School. Being a history buff, I was constantly asking her about the “good ol days” and about family history. Even though she was in her late 80's to early 90's, she was a wealth of information about the past. I can still remember a few things, but I could kick myself because I did not write down the hundreds of stories she told me. I do remember one amusing story about my dad. On the home from grandmothers, I asked him if he remembered about an event in his life involving a bicycle. It was a story my grandmother told me earlier that afternoon.

My dad said he and his family were living in Crofton, KY. It was during the days of the depression. Money, like today, was tight.

My dad use to have some good friends that he would hang-out with during and after school. Everyday they would leave school and ride their bikes to a local “mom and pop” grocery store to get a soft drink. Everyone would ride their bikes, that is, except for my dad. He did not have a bike.

My grandmother said one day he came home from school and was somewhat upset. When she asked what was wrong he said, “I want a bike.” He told her how all of his friends would leave school and go to the store and get a drink. He would hang-out with his friends until they finished drinking. He would stand on the front porch of the store and watch them ride away...of to boyish adventures. So, like many young boys of that day, he wanted a bike. Grandmother reminded him that times were tight. She suggested that he pray for one. So, he did.

Driving home in the car, he told me that he had been praying for the bike for a couple of weeks when he found one. It was far from new, rusted and without tires. And, to his amazement, it was behind the grocery store that he and his friends frequented.

My dad said he did not remember seeing that bike in the past.

One day, after school, He and the friends were making their daily trek to the store when he spotted the rusted old bike. He ran into the store and asked the owner where did he get the bike. Well, it turned out that the bike had been sitting there for years, just rusting away. When my dad asked if it was for sale and how much, the clerk laughed and said he would gladly give it to him just to get rid of it.

Dad told me that for the next few weeks he would by-pass his daily routine with his friends and instead go home to restore his bike. He said his friends were so excited for him, that they began to help. One friend had two extra tires. He found some paint brushes and old paint. Soon the rusted old bike was brought back to life. He said it did not look like much but at least he was able to join his friends on their daily afternoon adventures.

Then, one day my dad's life with his bike changed. After school, he and his friends jumped on their bikes and headed for the store. When they came out with soft drinks in hand, he noticed that one of his friends was just getting to the store. When he and his friends inquired why he was late, the boy informed them that he had left his bike out in the yard of his home and that it was stolen during the night. Dad said he and his friends expressed their regrets for their friend. However, when they finished their drinks, they mounted their bikes and headed out on their daily bicycle trip.

My dad said said that as they were pulling away, he looked back to find his friend standing on the porch with a familiar sad and lost look on his face. He said that got to him. He knew what it felt like to be left alone by your friends. Without hesitation, my dad turned that bike that he prayed for around and headed back to the store and his friend.

He said, “here, the bike is yours.” The boy could not believe it. My dad told him to hurray before the others got too far ahead of him. Dad said that he had a different feeling then as he watched his friends ride away. He said he no longer wanted a bike...that he was given something much better.

There are so many things that we should write down and make note of. Some things should never be forgotten. From a class lecture, to the events for a news story to a special story of kindness by someone special to us.

This is one of many events that were told to me that I never wrote down, but It has been forever engraved on my heart with a special pride and love for my dad. And, a reminder that I need to always “write it down.” Not just so I can remember, but so I can share what I have written with others.

Oh, and by the way, A Dell laptop was used to “write down” this story. My pen and notebook are taking a break.

A Penny for Christmas

There use to be a time when a penny, by itself, was worth something. However,today it seems that you can't buy anything for a penny. Stand in-line at any check-out counter and you just might hear a patron say they want to get rid of all their penny's.

I can remember a different time growing up when you could buy a few things for a penny. My brother, sister and I use to spend a lot of time with our grandmother, especially when our parents would go out of town. Sometimes my grandmother would send the two of them down to a local “mom & pop” market to get her groceries. They would always come back with some candy that would only cost a penny a piece. My favorite were those little wax bottles filled with flavored sugar water. The bottles looked like Coca Cola bottles and would come in a tiny six-pack carton.

Those days are long gone and indeed, you may not be able to buy anything for a penny anymore.

But penny's have come to find a different purpose in the lives of my family and I. And that is why I decided to write this story.

About seven years ago my mother was diagnosed with a severe form of dementia. Most senior citizens who suffer with this form of disease are usually diagnosed with Alzheimer's, a common form of dementia characterized by memory loss, confusion, emotional instability and eventually...a loss of mental and physical abilities. One Neurologist said that mom had a more severe case of dementia that was different than the characteristics of Alzheimer's.

It was in the summer of 2004 that we were finally forced to place mom in a nursing home. She did not want to go and we did not want to take her there but it seemed we really had no choice. She needed more care and by trained personnel. It isn't easy being a caregiver to someone with this disease and it is even more difficult for a family member. It was really hard on my family and I to care for her. Not physically, but emotionally and yes, sometimes even spiritually. You are forced to watch...before your very eyes...someone who raised you, cared for you as a child, help mend some broken hearts as you grew up and then even share some special times together with your spouse when you are an adult,...to begin fading away before your very eyes. The disease robs you of that person who you have always loved, gone too for help in growing and for advise as an adult.

Alzheimers has been called “the long good by.” A person suffering with this disease can linger for many years all the while not knowing or recognizing even the closest relative or a spouse. I choose to call the illness a “mean disease.” It can claim many victims, not just the person who suffers with it. It took it's toll on me, my brother and sister, and my mom's grandchildren. Even some of mom's closest friends expressed deep sadness by her illness. Slowly, the illness began to taken my mom away from us while seemingly leaving her body in tact.

I worked as a News Director for a local radio station which required that I be at work at 5am every morning during the weekday. After work I would go home and take a nap and then go to the nursing home to visit my mom and help feed her. One of the effects the disease had on my mom was that she was unable to use her hands to do some of the most simple things such as feed herself. So, either my sister, brother, some of her grandchildren, her son-in-law or I would always try to be at the nursing home for at least one of her meals to help feed her.

I will never forget a couple of my visits. One was on a Sunday morning near the lunch hour. I went to the nursing home so my sister and brother and their family could attend church together or spend the day together. The nurses always encouraged mom to go out to the dinning room to have her meals. There were many times she did not want to but we always tried to get her to go. Looking back I don't know if her objection was due to the disease or if mom just did not want to see the other patients. In other words, I don't think she wanted to be reminded of where she was or see the problems the others had. A nursing home is a very sad place to say the least.

There were times mom seemed more “in” the disease than others. On this particular Sunday, mom was setting in the dining room when I arrived. While she was eating she seemed deep in thought. I said, “what are you thinking about mom?” She replied, “What day is this?” I told her it was Sunday. Still in deep thought she paused and then asked what time it was. I told her it was 11:30. Another pause and then a rather stern question, “Shouldn't you be in Church?” I still smile when I think about that. I told her that I was there so the rest of the family could go to church. That my place that morning was to join her on Sunday, trying to make it sound as if we also were in church.

Another visit is one that still comes back to me from time to time, and at times when I least expect it. It involves a penny. The very center of this story.

One day I arrived at the nursing home early so I could make sure mom's TV was on “Wheel of Fortune,” one of her favorite TV programs. While waiting for the show I began to notice that mom was more herself and not so much “in” the Alzheimers as I use to say. It was early October and mom and I were having a normal conversation. That day I asked mom a question that seemed to come from nowhere. To this day I still sometimes ask myself why I asked mom this question. She was laying down and I was sitting by her bedside. Just before the show came on I said, “Mom, I have a favor to ask you. Now, your doing just fine and no one has ever said your going to die. But mom, when that time comes, and if it is alright with God, will you send me a sign that your in heaven and that everything is O.K?”

What?? I could not believe what I had just asked. Having been a seasoned Christian and a student of the bible, saved when I was a teenager, I could not believe I had just made that request. After all, I thought, a Christian is to live by faith. Was it faithful to make such a request, I thought? My moms answer however, was quick and to the point. “I'll send you a penny.” Huh...a...penny? I thought to myself. Still thinking that I probably should ask God to forgive me for asking such a question, I mean, after all, why wouldn't everything be OK in Heaven, I thought? But as I was trying to reason with myself for asking the question, I stopped abruptly and asked my mom what she just said. “What, a penny....Mom...did you just say you would send me a penny?” Well, I have prayed for many things in my life, some of them in a selfish manner. (No, God is not going to give me or you the winning lottery numbers, the Red Corvette I have always wanted,...etc.) But I have never asked for a penny. “A penny? Why a penny, mom?” I said. She replied that she and my dad liked to dance to the song “Pennies from Heaven”(Burke-Johnston, 1936) made famous by Bing Crosby. My parents would frequently travel to a place in Henderson that was called "The Trocadero" which would feature big band mucic, dining and dancing. I said, “O.K. Mom, you send me a penny from heaven.” It got quite after that. I was deep in thought while mom watched her show.

I can remember growing up as a little boy in the mid to late 60's as my mom and dad would want to watch the Lawrence Welk Show. They would be dancing arm-in-arm in the living room on Saturday nights while Welk and his orchestra played their big-band tunes. My sister, brother and I would be sitting on the coach watching them dance. I don't know what the other two were thinking, but I remember being a little steamed that we were being forced to watch the living room production while I was missing one of my favorite shows. Looking back, with a big smile on my face, and now that I am an adult, I would love to go back to just one of those Saturday nights. When I see the Welk's show on PBS, I can't help but think of my folks. I use to think that I was the only kid in the neighborhood who knew Benny Goodman's song, "In the Mood" and "Born to be Wild" by Steppenwolf.

A couple of months quickly went by...It was December. Most people are thinking about Christmas and all of the events surrounding one of the most holy of holidays.

The month brought my family and I closer to that penny. We know that there was no cure for Alzhiemers and that death was eminent, however; no one is prepared it. While Alzhiemers does affect a persons mental health, it can eventually cause some related physical problems. And that is just what happened to mom.

I got a call one day from my sister. She said mom was getting sick, a cold she thought and had requested an ambulance to take her to the hospital to be checked out. It was there that mom was diagnosed with Pneumonia. It was less than a week before...Christmas.

I arrived at the Hospital right after she was admitted to a room. When I got there, my sister, her daughter, and my mom's physician were in the room. We were given the news we always expected to hear but are never prepared for. Mom was dying! And, to make such devastating news worse, there was a hugh snow-stormed headed our way and it was expected to hit right around Christmas day.

My sister and brother both have children. I am divorced but have no children. I had taken the week off from work due to my mother's illness.  I told my sister that I would stay with mom while the two of them could spend time with their families. I remember thinking, “I wish I could give them more”, like reassure them that everything is going to be ok, but we knew better.

Two days before before Christmas...the storm hit. And what a storm it was. Even though I kept in-touch with the radio station, I do not remember the exact amount of snow, but it was more than a foot. As the weather got worse, so did my mom. I remember one night as I listened to her struggle just to breath. I could not stand to stay in the room and listen to her suffer so. She was conscious and her eyes were open but I wasn't sure if she could hear me or understand. The illness coupled with the pneumonia made things much worse.

I would sometimes leave the room and go around the corner at the end of the hallway to look out the window. It was there that I did a lot of praying. My faith has always reminded me that there is always hope. My mom is one of the people in my life who has nurtured my faith in God. When I was little, she sometimes would sing to me the song, “Count Your Blessings.”

Sitting at the hallway window, I watched a front-end loader clearing the heavy snow from Hospital Drive. I remember watching for what must have been a hour or so as the driver would drive up and down, back and forth making numerous passes across the snow covered roads. I was so emotionally drained from what was going on and could not stand to see my mom lingering and suffering. I thought to myself, “I wish I could be the driver of that snow plow, with the only care in the world which is to shovel show.” But then I realized that was such a selfish thought. If the driver of the plow and I switched places, he would be at his dying mother's bedside.

The next day, and just a couple of days before Christmas, I was sitting at my mom's bedside talking to her. It was all she could do to breath so I was doing all the talking. Sitting in my wheelchair, I was able to look at my mom in the eye since she was turned on her side. I said, “Mom, Christmas is just a couple of days away and it looks like it is really going to be a white Christmas, the biggest one I have ever seen. I then said, “mom, I love you.” At that moment she blinked her eyes and then closed them...she stopped breathing. I pushed the “call nurse” button and told them I needed them now. I think I even used the word “Stat” which I knew was a word they understood as “right now.” I then picked up my cell-phone and called both my sister and brother. I said, “She's going, get here now.” I remember a feeling I will never forget. I thought, I can not believe this is happening and right before my very eyes.” But at the same time a sense of calmness came over me. It may not have been too evident on the outside, but inside I kept feeling that I was not alone. Even when my sister and niece were the first to arrive, I still felt someone telling me that I was not alone. I know now what I really knew then, it was the holy spirit of God who was comforting me. The psalmist said, “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.”(Holy Bible, NIV) The doctors and support staff came in and brought her back.

About an hour later the doctor on duty asked to meet with my sister and I. My brother had already returned to work as my sister and I were reluctant to meet with him. I think we knew what he wanted and did not want to discuss with him what we were going to be faced with next.

Our fears were right. He knew mom was very near leaving this world and wanted to discuss with us about signing a DNR- “Do Not Resuscitate” order. We discussed it for some time but then agreed. Actually, it was my poor sister who ended up signing the order as they just needed one signature. I am sure she would have preferred to sign just about anything else but that order. But my sister had worked in nursing homes and the hospital in the past and seemed to accepted as best she could what was happening to mom.....with a heavy heart. And, I know, a broken heart for sure.

Christmas Eve night was especially hard. I began asking for the respiratory therapist to come and give my mom breathing treatments, which seemed to help at first, but on the night before Christmas, the treatments did very little, if any good. As the therapist would give her the treatments we would look up at TV and watch the weatherman give the latest details on the severe weather outside. About an hour after they would leave, my mom would again struggle to breath.

The chairs in the rooms for patient's families to sleep in are quite big and somewhat comfortable. I remember staying up as long as I could. Hearing my mother's labored breathing was very difficult. I could only imagine what she was going through. I finally laid down about 4:am. I remember praying this prayer, “Lord I love you and trust you. I know you have everything under control. So, do what ever you have to do. But please don't let my mom suffer so.” I have been through a lot in life and my faith has sustained me and brought me through some tough times, but that was the hardest prayer I ever prayed. Somehow, probably in near exhaustion, I closed my eyes and feel asleep.

The next morning I was awakened by a noise. As I opened my eyes, I saw a nurse standing by her bed. Without thinking, I jumped up and exclaimed, “Is she gone?” For a few seconds I could not believe that I had let myself go to sleep and let my mom die all alone. The nurse, who also worked at the nursing home and knew mom, slowly turned and said, “No...but it won't be much longer.” I jumped in my wheelchair and went to mom's bedside. I do not remember saying anything, just looked in her eyes and prayed.

About an hour later another nurse came in and suggested I go down stairs to get some breakfast. She said the cafeteria would stop serving breakfast soon. I turned and looked at my mother and thought, “How can I leave her now, she would never leave me while I was in the hospital just to go and eat if I was this bad.” But the nurse reassured me that she would keep an eye on her and call me if anything changed. I think the nurse could tell I was exhausted and needed to leave the room for a bit. I could hear my mom scolding me and tell me to go and get something to eat, so, reluctantly, I went.

There I was, just about the only one in the cafeteria, looking for breakfast as if nothing else was going on in my world. I still remember what I had, scrambled eggs, bacon, biscuit and gravy (which I really don't like) tomato and coffee. There were few people in the dinning room that day. As I sat by the window, I could hear people talking about the snow storm or what they would be doing later in the day with their families. I prayed and said, “You know something father, you have really created quite a unique world. Just two floors up, my mom is laying in her death bed, about to enter into your kingdom...soon, and here are people without a thought about why we truly celebrate this day or about their destiny with eternity.” As I sat there eating, some people would pass by and say, “Merry Christmas.” I would reply with the same wish as they knew nothing about what was going on inside of me or two floors up. I wanted to take my time and eat slow, I guess thinking that I would not have to face what I knew was happening around me. At the same time, I would find myself hurrying to get finished because I did not want my mom to be alone. She wasn't alone, though. I can imagine a host of heavenly angels ready for her special trip that was about to take place.

I finished my meal and headed up to the third floor. It was Christmas morning and I remember thinking that it was so odd to go from the cafeteria to my mom's room and not see a soul. Odd for any other morning, except...Christmas.

I went into the room and immediately saw my mom looking at me. She was still struggling to breath and sounded worse than when I left to go eat. Feeling helpless, I began to talk to mom in a normal way. I rolled up to her bed and told her that everyone was having Christmas with their children and families. I told her that the family would be coming by later and that we were all going to spend the day with her. I grabbed some clean clothes from my suitcase and went to the sink to wash-up and shave. I was sitting at her back when two nurses came in to turn her. She was supposed to be turned every few hours but the nurses forgot and apologized about being late. As I look back, their timing was perfect. Thinking that my mom's condition had worsened so it was probably not really that important, I told them that it was just that one time and not to worry. I finished shaving and put on my shirt. I then rolled around to my mom's side of the bed to talk to her some more. I said, “Mom I love you." We have got a really awesome white Christmas...you should see the snow outside.” I continued to tell her that my sister and brother were coming over later, along with their families (her grand children and great grandchildren) and that we were all going to be together later that day. I said “Mom, it is a beautiful day outside...Mom..I love you.” At that moment she closed her eyes and stopped breathing. Again, just like before, I hit the “call nurse” button and asked for help. And, just like I did two days before, I called my siblings and told them, once again, she was going and to get up there. My sister lived less than two miles away. My brother lived on the other-side of town and was hampered from getting to the hospital due to a vehicle stuck in the snow and blocking his only exit.

As the doctors and medical staff began working on my mom, the doctor told them to stop because of the DNR. That angered me a great deal. I reminded the doctor that I had agreed to the DNR two days ago, but only on the condition that they keep my mom alive until my family arrived. I did not want my mom to go without both my brother and sister there to see her too. After a very stern reminder on my part, the doctor agreed and told the RN on duty to go ahead and start CPR. Again, just like before, they brought her back. But this time, it would not be for long.

Finally my sister and her daughter arrived. Soon my brother, and his family were on their way as was my other niece and family members.  Finally, all together, we circled her bed, held hands and started singing “Silent Night” (Mohr, Gruber, 1818) and 'Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus”(Lemmel, 1922).

We started telling her that we loved her and would miss her, and that we would see her again. For a Christian, death of another Christian is not a day of good-by. God's word tells us we will see each other again in Heaven someday, when death will not separate us any longer.

While we were singing, my sister said, “look...a tear.”  A single tear began rolling down my mother's left cheek. We all seemed to feel that mom understood what was happening and would miss us just as much. The hospital staff were kind to let us have all the time we needed to spend with my mom to say so-long. Others from the family began showing up and giving us comfort.

Later, it was time to go. It had been such an emotional time at the hospital and so much had happened.  Ultimately...my mother was gone. But, it was still Christmas day.

As we began to leave the room, I turned and looked back at mom. I knew her body was just a shell now. An earthly body that had ended it's usefulness here on earth. But what a wonderful life God had given her...and to us, her children, through her.

I began to feel a little joy and a bit of excitement! I began to wonder just want was happening to her at that very moment. I thought to myself, “What must it be like for my mom to enter into heaven..what are these first few moments like for her?” That was Saturday morning, December 25, 2004. My mom went home for Christmas.

The family had come together for the funeral as all the arrangements were made. We shared the time together loving and supporting each other as we always had before as a family.

And now, to the main part of this story...The Penny.

Two weeks later, another Saturday, it was my nephew, Ryan's birthday. Mom's first great-grandson. I sat up on the side of the bed and began to stretch, as I always do. I then reached over to grab my pillow to fluff it up when I noticed something dark just underneath it. I thought, “Now what? Don't tell me that I have bugs in the house.” As I turned to look to see what it was, I was quickly reminded of my conversation with my mom back in the nursing home, just three months earlier. The conversation about the favorite song my mom and dad danced too. The song about...the penny. As I looked down on the bed, I could not believe my eyes. It was a single...penny. I had been laying on it during the night. Logic tells me that the penny had to come from somewhere, faith tells me from where it came. I froze and could not believe my eyes. “A penny....A penny” I said. I just sat there thinking about mom and about what she could be doing in heaven at about that time. Since there is no measurement of time in heaven, her arrival there must have seemed like she has just arrived, even though here on earth, it was two weeks later. The rest of the day I could not stop thinking about that penny and the conversation I had with my mom.

Ryan's birthday party was with family and his school friends, at the local skating rink. As I arrived there was loud music, screaming kids and screaming parents trying to be heard over their screaming kids. But I was completely oblivious to my entire surroundings. I just kept talking to the Lord in meditation and thinking, "I wonder what is going on in heaven right now."  I kind of chuckled when I pictured my mom and dad in heaven, in front of God and the entire heavenly host, dancing to the song, “Penny's from Heaven.”(Burke-Johnston, 1936). And, who knows, if Bing Crosby is in heaven, maybe he was singing the song just for them, instead of a big band playing the tune.

Today I have found a penny at various times and at a time when it seems I need divine intervention. A special message or visit from Heaven. I can have something on my mind and be seeking God's wisdom or contemplating a big decision that I am about to make, when all of the sudden, I find a penny at what seems to be at the right time and in the most unusual places. My sister has even told me that she has found a penny near our parents grave during her visits. 

Hebrews 13:2 tells us that there are times when we may entertain angels, unaware. Sometimes I wonder if these angels have been special messengers sent to deliver...a penny.

This story is not meant to create sympathy or pity for my family and I, but to encourage and up-lift those who read this story. Christmas is a time of celebration and a time of love, hope and erternity.

They say the holidays can be a hard time for some...emotionally. Certainly the hustle of trying to buy Christmas presents, organize party's, get the whole family together, and just get ready for the holidays can be...in itself...stressful. But, there is a special message that is more important than all of that. A message of love...of hope...of a future. The love of God as he sent his son as a gift to us...all of us...and yes, you too. The hope for those who will turn their lives over to Jesus, the Son of God, and accept him as Lord and savior of their lives. And, the future...our heavenly home. Eternal life.

Certainly, Christmas has a different affect on my family and I, now. We can no longer celebrate Christmas without thinking about that special day, Dec. 25, 2004. That was the day that my mom received her very special Christmas gift...a trip home. We do not grieve or wish that she could come back to us, and especially as ill as she was. Instead, we celebrate her home. My family and I are reminded every Christmas just what this special day really means. A gift of love and celebration home.  And...a penny.

Why, "Tucker?"

Why have I decided to name my Blog, "Tucker?" Well I love antique cars, reading about the history of these cars and attending car shows. One day I hope to own either a 50's era Oldsmobile, Chrysler Imperial or Studebaker.

But, why Tucker? Preston Tucker was a businessman, designer and entrepreneur. He was a military manufacturer during WWII. Following the way, he began to manufacture the Tucker automobile. Now, there are a lot of different stories about Tucker. Some good and some not so good. But I have always liked the looks of the Tucker Automobile, of which there very few remaining today. While Tucker himself is surrounded with some controversy, I have always enjoyed the history and design of the car, Tucker. I also admire some areas of Tucker's business life. I feel he was a leader, if not in his own time.

So, hopefully, this explains why I like the car and name so well.

Ease On Down the Road

There was a song that made the charts back in the 70's called, "Easy on Down The Road." It is probably more remembered through countless television commercials than being on Billboards Hit List.

The song, however; describes, in a way, how I feel about my life. Several things have happened in my life since my last blog was posted.

First, I did finish my bachelors degree. I earned a Bachelors of Science in Business Management from Mid-Continent University.

Now, I am working on a Masters degree in Human Resource Management. My ultimate goal is to teach on the college level. I should finish the course in about 18 months.

Next, I am no longer employed by iSurf. That is an Internet-only news paper I went to work for about 3 years ago. When I started to work there, my plans were to help them get a news department started and then leave in about a year to 18 months. I had eventually planned to go to Seminary and get my masters degree there. However, when I found out how expensive seminary would be, I decided that was not a step I should take. After a few events that occurred in my life earlier this year, I decided I needed to move on, and I have. I do not regret working for iSurf, but I feel I needed to explore other avenues for my life.

And finally, but never last, is someone special in my life. Her name is, Beckie. I have known Beckie since about the mid 1980's. It was just this year, however; that I got to know her better and grow closer to her. I was on a friend's Facebook page when I saw her on his friends list. I sent her a request for friendship and she accepted. It was not long before she posted a message saying she wanted to chat on facebook with me. Beckie works 3rd shift and it was more convenient to talk to her then. Before long, we were up several times a week talking and getting to know each other. One night we started talking at approximately 11pm and did not stop until about 5am. She works 12 hr. shifts and she is the boss. So, she could talk with me. Now, let me stop here and say that I have always been attracted to Beckie since the first time I saw her. I never thought, however; that she would have similar feelings about me. But, it seems that she does. Our first, (unofficial) date was for lunch at a local restaurant. We met at 12 noon. We ate and talked, finished eating, talked some more, ordered coffee, talked some more, drank our coffee, talked some more, got multiple refills, and talked even more. Finally, I looked at my watch and it was 5:15p.m. Time for dinner...LOL. Well, we went outside to our vehicles but she sat on a bench and we probably talked for 20 - 3o minutes more. In other words, it seems we were hitting it off (as they say) rather well. Beckie lives in another city, about 45 miles away. But, there is no problem with this long distance relationship. We talk on our cell-phones to each other at least once a day. Most days it is twice a day. We see each other for dinner and a date as often as we can. Oh, and we are always sending each other messages on facebook. Sometimes, we even post messages that everyone can read.

As the song says, "Ease on Down the Road." I think that is a good description of my life. No, life is not always easy. There are bumps and sometimes even brick walls we have to face from time-to-time. However, it is how we face those obstacles that make our journey easier. I know I will be faced with some tough times in my future, everyone will. But, the journey is a lot easier with a positive attitude. And, when we remain focused.

Going to college is a life-long dream of mine. I have not finished yet, but I will. Having Beckie in my life is an awesome answer to a prayer. And, not just an answer, but such a great feeling to have someone so special and someone to care about. And I care a great deal for her.

The Easy part is staying focused & positive, even when it seems like things are a little tough. Sure, with college there is always homework and the uncertainty of making the grade. But, if you have a dream, and it is important to you, don't just let it hang in the balance. Make a plan and find a way to make that all important dream a reality. Plan your journey, map out each avenue. Before you know it, you will be singing the same song. PEACE

Almost There

As I stated in my last blog, I am a non-traditional college student. I am enrolled in an excellerated program working on my bachelors degree in Business Management.



I started the program in November of 2007. I am getting very excited about the future as I have just a few more classes left before I am through. I expect to graduate in December. I have learned a lot in college, but I also realize there is so much more I can learn. College has been exciting and I have even made some very good friends along the way. I can not wait until I can say I am a college graduate.



After college, I plan to continue on with my education and work on getting a Masters Degree. I do not know yet how I will do this, but I know I will continue on. I would like to eventually teach at a Christian College or Seminary or Liberal Arts University. I am hoping to obtain a Seminary degree and a Masters Degree in History, which I am passionate about.



Also, I will continue my journey in ministry. I have a couple of prospects for pastoring and hope to be preaching and pastoring in the next couple of months. My journey is ministry in the last year has been amazing. We do have an awsome God.



No matter what the future holds, I know I am on track with the Lord's guidance and plans for my future. Jeremiah 29:11 says, " For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord. Thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope." I am very excited about my future in Education and Ministry.

tucker has arrived to a new world in cyber-space

HI EVERYONE,

THIS IS MY VERY FIRST POSTING OF A BLOG. I AM FINDING THIS NEW WORLD IN CYBERSPACE QUITE AN ADVENTURE. I REALLY ENJOY READING AND WRITING, SURFING THE NET., RESEARCHING HISTORY, CULTURE, RELIGION, AND ETHICS. BUT, BEFORE YOU THINK I AM BORING, I HAVE MANY OTHER INTEREST ALSO. PHOTOGRAPHY, FISHING, SCUBA DIVING, CAMPING, TRAVELING, TOURING HISTORY MUSEUMS AND SITES, AND ANTIQUEING.

I AM A NON TRADITIONAL COLLEGE STUDENT STUDYING BUSINESS ADMINISTRATION WITH A MINOR IN PSYCHOLOGY. I PLAN TO GO ON TO SEMINARY AFTER GRADUATION AND STUDY THEOLOGY AND COUNSELING. SO, AS MUCH AS I ENJOY OTHER ACTIVITIES, SCHOOL TAKES UP A BIG PART OF MY TIME.

I AM NOT REALLY POSTING A BLOG, PER SAY, RIGHT NOW. I JUST WANT TO CONNECT TO OTHERS OUT THERE JUST TO GET AN IDEA WHO WILL BE READING WHAT I HAVE TO SAY.

SO, PLEASE LET ME HEAR FROM YOU. I PROMISE THERE WILL BE MORE BLOGS IN THE FUTURE. AS A MATTER OF FACT, I AM EXCITED ABOUT THIS NEW ADVENTURE AND CAN NOT WAIT TO GET STARTED.

YOU CAN CONTACT ME AT moorethanyoucanstand@gmail.com. LET ME HEAR FROM YOU.

TUCKER