Posts Tagged "All I Have Needed"

Cowboys in the Park

Posted by on Jul 23, 2016 in Blog, Home Is Where The Story Starts |

Cowboys in the Park

In honor of National Day of the Cowboy, I am digging out an old piece. This was written originally for the Newberry Observer as a column. Then, it made it into both of my non-fiction books. Enjoy! Cowboys in the Park It’s not like I was hurting for something to do last Friday. I had a huge list of tasks that needed accomplished and a class for work on Saturday, so I really needed to stay home and put my nose to the grindstone.   However, once I saw the notice in the paper that the concert in the park downtown was Cowboy Music I knew there was nothing on the list that couldn’t wait—or wouldn’t have to.   When I got to the park I couldn’t believe my eyes. There were cowboy hats in the town square. Cowboy hats on people wearing jeans and cowboy boots. I could feel my heart rate jump. I picked a park bench close to the microphones. I wanted to hear every word.   Oh my. For the next hour I sat and alternately resisted the urge to jump up and twirl across the grass like a child unable to contain her joy, or sit and wail because I missed my family, especially my Grandpa Jones.   They sang a lot of the old cowboy songs and the crowd sang along. I heard comments about memories from the picture show when they were children. My memories were a bit different.   I remembered helping Grandpa saddle Brownie, the horse he kept for the grandkids to ride. I remembered riding with Grandpa to get some cows in and having my glasses knocked off my face when I failed to see a branch. I remembered watching hours of the old westerns on TV on Sunday afternoons at Grandpa and Grandma’s ranch. They all paraded through my head.   When they sang a song by “Grandpa Jones” from the Hee Haw TV show I laughed because my Grandpa Jones loved watching that show. When they sang a song asking where the cowboys have gone I wanted to stand up and shout, “THEY ARE STILL THERE!”   I thought of my cousin Gordon, riding across the Sandhills of Nebraska on his horse as he works his ranch. I wished every one of those people there could see a real cowboy, on a real ranch. I felt like I knew something they didn’t know. I felt blessed.   It was cool—one of those two nice days—and there was a chilly breeze. If I closed my eyes I could imagine myself in Nebraska or South Dakota. By the middle of the concert I was shivering but I certainly wasn’t going to get up and go anywhere.   I was right where I wanted to be, enjoying an evening in Nebraska and South Dakota right here in downtown Newberry, South...

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Public Displays of Affection . . . or Not

Posted by on Feb 14, 2016 in Blog, Home Is Where The Story Starts |

Today is Valentine’s Day, the day the whole world seems to go crazy with displays of “love”. Everywhere you look there are flowers, chocolate, and public displays of affections. It reminded me of a piece from my book about legacy, All I Have Needed-A Legacy for Life. Today I am posting that piece. You see, I didn’t learn about love from society, television, or silly cards. I learned from people who knew what love was really about. So, here you are. Enjoy!   Public Displays of Affection . . . or Not My dad’s parents were ranch people. They grew up in Nebraska during simpler times when the work was hard and there weren’t many frills. They lived in a sod house (where Daddy was born), and they lost everything during the Depression. When people talked about the “good old days,” Grandma would say, “They weren’t so good.” They were loving but not demonstrative, at least not toward each other in front of others. That wasn’t their way.   When Grandpa was about ninety, he developed a lump on his neck. He ignored it as it got bigger and bigger. After all, he was ninety. He didn’t expect to live forever. One day it started causing trouble with his breathing, so they took him to the hospital, rushed him sixty-five miles from Broken Bow to Kearney, Nebraska. That lump had to be removed. The morning of surgery, the staff came in to take Grandpa to the procedure and told Grandma, “You can kiss him goodbye if you want.” To my parents’ amazement and delight, she did. It wouldn’t be considered a romantic moment by today’s standards, but it certainly impressed Daddy. After all, at age sixty-five he was watching—for the first time—his parents kiss. During the preparations for surgery, Grandpa’s IV came apart, and he bled some. He bled enough that the doctors decided they should take him back to his room and check his heart before doing surgery. After all, he was ninety. Once he was cleared for surgery, Grandma had her chance again, and she went for it. “Twice,” Daddy said. “I saw them kiss twice!” The look on his face when he was telling us was priceless. It was pure delight and comfort. Proof of what we all knew. They loved. (As if one hundred direct descendants and sixty-five years of marriage wasn’t enough proof.) A couple of years later, Grandpa was hospitalized with a mild heart attack. It was caused, it turned out, by prostate cancer, and he was dying. Grandma, herself well into her 80s, couldn’t care for him at home, so they put him in the nursing home attached to the hospital. During the next six weeks, Grandma went up every day to eat lunch with him … well, at least until she figured out that he wasn’t eating when she was there in hopes she would take pity on him and take him home. She certainly wanted him home, but it was...

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Reading The End First

Posted by on Oct 10, 2014 in Blog, Home Is Where The Story Starts |

A not so well-known fact about this author is that I read the end of books first. Well, at least after the first or second chapter. When I begin to connect with the characters I start worrying that it won’t turn out well for them. So I just have to read the end to make sure they are still all alive.   I am a happily ever after reader.  If an author betrays my trust by killing off a main character, or leaving things unfinished I am unlikely to read more books by that author. I don’t trust them anymore.   So, when my Bible reading took me to Psalm 77 it left me a little unsettled. The passage reminded me of America today. In verses 7-9 the following questions are posed. Will the Lord cast off for ever? and will he be favourable no more?                          Is his mercy clean gone for ever? doth his promise fail for evermore?                         Hath God forgotten to be gracious? hath he in anger shut up his tender mercies? Selah. The Psalmist was in agony over this question, “Has God written us off?”   Since I’ve often wondered this about America, I read on in hopes of finding good news.   Here’s what I found. In verses 10-20 we see what our responses should be. The Psalmist says in verse 10,   This is my infirmity: but I will remember the years of the right hand of the most High.   This sets the stage for the rest of the chapter. The Psalmist, in the midst of uncertainty over God’s blessing on his world would remember the goodness and past blessing of the Lord.   Then it ends. Yep, that’s right. Read it for yourself.   The Psalmist never answers the question posed in verses seven to nine. It just ends.   ARGHHHH! Sigh.   My husband likes to tease that he is going to remove the last chapter from my next new book and hide it until I’ve read the rest of the book. I like to tell him that I’m pretty sure he is too smart to do that. If he really did that I would probably have to find the book elsewhere to read the end, or find somebody who knows the end of the story. I might even do a web search for a synopsis of the plot and read the end there. I would find a way!   But, in this case there is a difference.  The author of this Psalm is ultimately God. He inspired the Psalmist. So, in this situation I need to relax, remember who God is, follow the leader, and trust the author. But, then maybe that’s exactly what the Psalmist was saying in the last verse of the chapter.   Thou leddest thy people like a flock by the hand of Moses and Aaron. Psalm 77:20   I can follow the Good Shepherd with confidence, no matter the outcome. And THAT, my...

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