Uncle Delaney

I suspect that we all have dreams when we sleep at night.  I awoke this morning at 3:00 AM.  I had a dream.  I was at my Grandma Bowles’ house in Raleigh, West Virginia.  All of my teenagers were with me. We were there to visit Grandma since my kids had never met her.  She had died in 1983, long before mine were born. In this dream she had never died but was just old and active with the kids.  After visiting a while I asked her if Uncle Delaney had been around in while.  She just smiled and said, “No but he might show up some day.  In the dream I knew the he was living in Columbus, OH.  Soon when we were about to leave and I sitting in the kitchen, which was strange because her kitchen was very small and we usually sat in the living room, Uncle Delaney walked into the room.  Quietly he entered so as to surprise me.  He did. Uncle Delaney was carrying the guitar in a case across his back and a heavy chrome amplifier in his hand.  A tall light skinned woman was with him. I did not recognize her other than for these features.  In the dream I realized that Uncle always seemed to prefer women with these features. Uncle walked up to me as I stood up and said in his gravelly voice that I remember so well, “Boy, How you been?”  I reached out and hugged tightly. It was rather awkward as I was so much taller than he; it not that way the last time I had seen him as I was probably only 9 or 10 years old.   He had the same narrow face and the Bowles nose and a small frame so that his pants seemed to just hang onto his waist as if nothing was holding them up. 

We talked some small talk while tears starting welling up in my eyes as I slowly began to realize that Uncle Delaney had died while living in Columbus some 35 years or more ago.  After a short time Uncle Delaney said he had to go now but that it was good seeing me again. He told me I looked so much like his brother, my father, Larry. A tear or two appeared in his eyes.

We both walked out the door as he was leaving but I noticed we were now outside my grandma Holland’s home in Stanaford, W.Va.  I sat down on the flat stone steps on the small hill coming up from the road that ran by the house. The road ‘Y’ branched off right next to the house. As a child I rarely if ever walked that road; it had seemed to possess far too much adventure to do so then.  

Uncle  Delaney and the woman he was with hugged me one last time and waved good bye as they started walking up that rarely traveled road.  I watched as they disappeared around a bend a little ways up.  At this I was crying tears of sadness like a small child.  I woke up from this dream crying the same way as in the dream.  My face was drenched with tears even as I began to slowly realize it was just a dream.  All in a dream…

George with the Green Bottom Shoes

It was the 1964/65 school year in Raleigh County, West Virginia.  I was attending Cranberry Consolidated School in Cranberry, W.Va.  I was in the sixth grade and it was my first and only year at Cranberry School.

The school had a semi-organized basketball team that, as I remember, was pretty good.  There was one player that I distinctly remember. His name was George, a big, tall white fellow who wore green bottomed ‘tennis shoes’, as we called them back then. George was in the 8^th grade and I thought he was a giant. (The fact that George was white has nothing to do with the telling of this true story. It’s mentioned here only for descriptive purposes.)  I had never seen green bottoms on tennis shoes before and I thought they were the very coolest things ever.  I later found out that these ‘tennis’ or basketball shoes were name brand shoes named after a famous basketball player from the 50’s, Bob Cousy, who played for the Boston Celtics. (I never heard of the Converse All Stars Chuck Taylor brand until I moved to Detroit the following year.) George was a good basketball player and led the team to some victories.

The Cranberry team had an informal cheer leading squad who made up some cool chants and cheers for the team.  I remember one chant:

George! George! He’s our man

If he can’t do it Tommy can
Tommy! Tommy! He’s our man
If he can’t do it Billy can...

And so on…

I sometimes wonder whatever happened to Big George and his basketball aspirations.  For that matter, I wonder whatever became of some others from the Cranberry School, e.g. Larry Anglin from Skelton, Becky who lived somewhere in Cranberry, Robert from Cranberry and of course that beautiful blond girl with the special eyes whose last name was Green from Skelton; these and more.

These folks are now locked in my memories and return to my conscious mind like the cheerleading chant from long ago.

The thing about the chant though makes me think of the way people chase after political leaders in order to get a better life or to secure some political goal. During election times, which is now continuous as opposed to nearing the time of the election; various folks throw their hats into the ring, as it were, in order to compete for the popular vote of the people.  From the mouths and campaigns of each person running for some office we hear, “Vote for me and I’ll make your life better”.  This is cry sent toward those who vote the popular vote.  Those same campaign voice cry out, “What kind of deal can we make with each other to ensure I get your support and donations for my campaign?”

In short, the deals are struck in the back rooms and hidden places that may or may not be in the best interest of the masses of the people.  All this while the people still chant:

Barack Obama he’s our man

If he can’t do it, Rick Perry can
Perry, Perry he’s our man
If he can’t do it, Mitt Romney can

And so on….

And round and round we go.

A sadness falls over me as I’ve heard, time after time, how a person who expresses popular ideas in order to get elected and then fails to accomplish what he or she promised and the people are no better off or worse.  The really saddest part is that of the people who put their trust in these failed promises year after year after year.

It’s not the green bottom shoes that make a difference….

The Cranberry part of this story … to be continued…..

Look Sharp, Be Sharp, Feel Sharp - file yourself to a point

When I was being taught by Mrs. Robinson at Sprague elementary school , my parents would buy these wonderful, bright yellow #2 pencils to use at school. In school they had these crank type pencil sharpeners that were screw mounted to a table or bench or something. I always wanted to get the finest points on my pencil possible so my writing would look its best. I didn't easily get the trick of applying just the right amount of pressure inward on the pencil until it had a sharp enough point. I struggled with this and many times ended up with a very sharp 2 inch nub instead of a sharp enough 7 inch usable writing instrument.

In many ways I haven't changed.. Sometimes, in my efforts to 'make a point', I try to put 'too fine a point' on the matter being discussed. I want to be thorough. I still want my writings /sayings to be sharp and to the point. I still fail to realize that, sometimes, sharp enough is enough. If others don't get the point then I have to learn to let it go and not continue to 'push that pencil into the sharpener'.

A prayer -
Dear God Jehovah,
Please continue to help me to grow and become a better teacher of your word. Please continue to help me to become more like the your Son, Jesus Christ who known as 'The Great Teacher'.....

Way Past Time

It is way past the time that I wrote down my stories and my thoughts. When I am gone, it will be all that remains of me.
Some said my children will remain. They are their own persons. I am my own person.

A Simple Song or Poem

Listen children to a story
That was written long ago
About Almighty God in heaven
And His human kids on earth below

In a garden He did place them
Full of life and paradise
All the things in the garden you may have
Except this one tree do not touch
For in the day that you do this
You will surely die for such

These words he did give to Adam
Who then passed them to his wife;
“We will not eat this fruit for if we do
We’ll lose our life.

But then the serpent came crawling around
Asking Eve if it was really so
“Did God say not to eat this fruit?
Is this really, truly so?”
“Yes”, she said, “it’s really true,
For we will surely die

If eat this fruit we would do,
In that day we would surely die”

Then the serpent, he did speak
The first lie that was ever told
‘You positively will not die,
Positively onto life you will hold’

‘For God knows that when you eat it
You will be just like Him
Knowing all the good and bad
Things reserved just for Him

Hunger did not over take them
For they had so much else to eat
But Eve thus began longing for it
So both she and Adam began to eat

To God a day is like a thousand years
And a thousand years just like a day
This disobedience would bring a billion tears
What did God now have to say?
‘For this thing that you have done
You will pay the ultimate price
Just as I said that you will die
No longer now will be paradise
From the dust I made you strong
Now back to that dust you will return
Because you chose to disobey me
All your offspring will now mourn

Now in that day they did surely die
They never lived even a thousand years
Yes, in that day they came to dust
Causing all a billion tears
Now He turned toward the serpent
Destroy him then He did not
But God stated His full purpose
Of causing His righteous rule to be put
Upon the Earth just as before
God’s seed is the one who would do this
And would be bruised in the heel, not dead
The serpent then would pay this price
Be bruised in the head, thus dead

With paradise on earth restored
Mankind then will be able to live
The kind of life that God had purposed
Eternal life on earth in paradise God to us gives.

A Fiddler in Everyone’s Life

I always liked the violin / fiddle. In 1991 we moved from Rock Hill to Peoria, Il and lived near there for 3 years. We bought a house about 20 miles north of Peoria in a little town called Sparland, Il, which is about 5 or 6 miles north of Chillicothe, Il. (Yeah that's right Chillicothe, Oh has a sister city in Illinois.) But I digress. Sparland's population was less than a 1000 people. Chillicothe, on the other hand, had about 6000 people. There was a saying in that area, "If you didn't work for CATERPILLAR, KOMATSU DRESSER or Diamond Star Motors, you was farming".

Well, there was an older couple that attended the congregation there in Chillicothe; Bro & Sis Daley. They were among the sweetest people I have ever known in my life. They had to be up in their 80's even then. Their home was small and unpretentious. Sis. Daley had and used a ringer type washing machine still on the back porch. They were loving and kind and God was with them. One evening we were at a little gathering at their home (they had 2 daughters in the area and all went to the same congregation - small as IT was). Bro Daley's granddaughter married, Danny, who could play guitar and sing. He did this one nightas Danny was pretty good and his entertainment was timely. Afterward I mentioned to Bro, Daly that I always wanted to play the violin or fiddle, but never made it happen. He looked at me for a moment as if deciding if he should share a precious secret with me. He stood up on his somewhat wobbly legs and motioned for me to come to his bedroom with him. He reached under the bed and started pulling out cases containing fiddles that he himself made. I sat there on the bed and handled the fiddles as if they were treasure (and they were). I dragged a horse hair bow across one of them and made a screeching sound (not a hissing noise like Charlie Daniels LOL) . Then he took one of up and started to play. Lawd! Lawd! I was enthralled, I don't remember the song but I do remember him playing (some very old tune that we would categorize as country music now). He then looked me direct in the eye ( as he often did when he was serious) and said why don't you just pick one , take it home you and try to learn to play it.  My heart swelled at that moment to hear such a thing. He was loaning me, without hesitance, one of his treasures.

I taught myself a few things on that old handmade fiddle; and now every time I hear a fiddle playing an old country tune, I think of Bro. Daley. You know as I write this, it came into my mind that Bro. Daley reminds me of the great grandfather  character in a song by Randy Travis called "I thought that he walked on water".

The Daley's died several years ago (not far apart from each other in time). I still, at times, can hear their voices and laughter and their praises to God. Be at Peace, Bro and Sis Daley. We will see you again soon.