THE CHAIN REACTION




I did not always walk or run up to the small general store. Sometimes I would ride my bike. I started a fad that would soon be popular years later but I never received any acknowledged for it. I would put on my high-top green Converse tennis shoes and would not lace up the shoelaces.


My parents would tell them to tie up my shoes, but I thought it was cool. I would meet a stranger, and they would warn me to tie my shoes. They were trying to help me so I wouldn't trip on them. I did not listen to them.


One evening I was hanging around the house without my shoes. It was close to supper. My mom told me to run to the store and get a bottle of milk and a loaf of bread. I moaned and groaned and slowly got up and off the floor. I went out and then sped off on my mission aboard my bike.


I always tried to see how far I could coast. I would pedal as hard as I could and then coast the rest of the way. If I had to pedal again, I saw this as a lost. If I could coast the rest of the way ,I was a winner- winner chicken dinner.


On this particular evening a group of boys were in front of the store. They were a little older than me and I looked up to them not only because they were taller but because they were so cool. I got on my bike and pedaled as hard as I could and thought how cool I would look cruising up in front of the store. Things were going quite well. It seemed I had plenty of steam left over and I was going to be able to make it.


As I slowly rolled in, something went down that I had not planned for. I did not lace up my shoes. When it was time to put my feet on the ground I could not. My shoelaces had become tangled in the chain and sprocket on both sides. I strained with all my might and could not free myself! I slowly fell over on my right shoulder with my feet still in my shoes. The fall itself did not hurt all that bad, but my pride was injured quite badly as all present erupted in laughter. It took two of them to help me slip out of my shoes with the laces still twisted up and tangled in the chain.


Imade it up to the store and that was a win. I lost my dignity as I was squirming around on the ground .

Won one, lost one. Seems it would be a tie, but it was not. From that day forward I always tied my shoelaces real tight with an  extra strong knot!



                           It is the loose ends which men hang themselves.

                                                                                                 Zelda Fitzgerald



                            A laugh at your own expense costs you nothing.

                                                                                                Mary H. Waldrip


                            Nothing compares to the simple pleasure of riding a bicycle .

                                                                                                   John F. Kennedy  




 





















                                   LAST DITCH EFFORT



When I was a young boy, I seldom wore shoes in the summer.   The bottom of my feet was calloused, and the underside was almost like leather. I could run across a gravel road and not even flinch.


One of my best friends lived right next to us and our yards actually touched. Their yard was a little high than ours. There was a small drainage ditch between the yards that was about a foot deep. It took water run-off from their yard out and on to a much bigger ditch in the front of our homes.


I was always trying to make myself stronger and tougher. I would always run as fast and hard as I could as I headed for home from the small grocery store. This ditch served as a line for me as I jumped as far as I could and landed down in our yard. I had done this many times and so often I had worn a bare spot in our yard. I could tell I was jumping a little farther than before. To my delight I was now jumping a little past the worn area. 


Then one day I was in the home stretch and leaped just like before. When I came down, I felt an intense pain in my right foot. I did not fall but it was close. I saw blood gushing from my foot as I limped towards the house. My mom patched me up and I remember yelling as the alcohol and medicine was poured over the large gash.


My dad thought he would find a large piece of a glass. After looking for some time he gave up but was still perplexed. Time went on and the wound healed up quite nicely. I was trying to get us my courage to do my leaping feat again but was skittish. My dad had taught me to get back on a horse after I was thrown off. I knew this is something I must do.


So, one day I decided it was time. I must admit I was afraid. I faced my fear and leapt into the air like a young deer. I felt so free. I had faced not my fear of flying mind you but my fear of landing. Gues what? As I come down, pain again shot through my foot and this cut was larger and more bloody than the first.


My mom was beside herself. I thought my dad would be pleased with my heroic attempt, but he was mad. He was not mad at me but because after looking again he came up with nothing. He borrowed a metal detector from a neighbor. It gave a loud beep right where my blood trail started. I was landing on the jagged top of a four-foot fence post someone had beat down into the ground years ago. The freezing and thawing of the ground had caused this to resurface. It seems there was a fence that ran between the two properties years ago.


I would think you are wondering if I ever jumped over the ditch again. I did. I had to. It took a long time

I would run and then stop right before I jumped. I was mad at myself each and every time. I never told my dad that I was able to do it. It was a personal thing for me. One day he asked me about this, and I told him that I did.  He smiled and said, "I knew you would." His words meant more to be than any award or trophy that I have ever received.


                        The same fence that shuts others out shuts you in.

                                                                                                   Bill Copeland



                        If you want your children to keep their feet on the ground, put some

                        responsibility on their shoulders.

                                                                                                 Abigail Van Buren 


                       Don't ever take a fence down until you know the reason why it was out up. 

                                                                                                  G.K. Chesterton 


                       He who limps still walks.                          Stanislaw Lec





                                    SWIMMING IN GUILT


I have never shared this story with another in writing or speaking. It still haunts me to this very day. Only my dad knew what I did or didn't do about sixty years or so ago.


It was a hot summer evening, and my dad had just come home from work. I asked him if he would take me swimming and he said he would think about it. After supper his belly was full, and he seemed to be in a good mood.  I made my request yet again. To my delight and surprise, he said yes. I asked him if I could ask another to go along with us to Saddle Lake.


I asked a boy who was a tad older than me if he wanted to go. His face lit up and he ran to ask his parents for permission. This boy's house was on the edge of town. It would take at least five minutes to get there each way even at a flat out run.


Dad came out and hopped in the truck and away we went. About halfway there my conscience started 

bothering me. I told my dad I had invited him and there was no way he could get there and back in the short time allowed. My dad scolded me and told me how wrong that was. He explained we would have waited if only he had known. 


The water was cool and refreshing, but the incident put a dent and damper on the evening. I remember crying about it later, but my dad did not see my tears. His words hurt far more than a butt whippin.


Too make matters worse, I later learned that my friend's parents had said yes. That little guy had run as hard as he could go with high spirits. His heart sunk when he realized we had left him high and dry. 


I apologized up and down when I saw my buddy. He said it was ok but would not look at me as I talked with him. He looked down at the ground and looked as if he was about to cry.  


I was at a funeral earlier this week. Another good friend of mine, Doug, lost his mother. Her name was Mary Ann Bawel. She had lived a long life and has also Bristow roots. Many were blessed by her. She was a Godly lady. We heard stories about her and the strong legacy of faith that lived on in the hearts of all who knew her.


My friend's daughter, Kelly, gave an invitation to anyone present to accept Jesus as their Lord and Savior. No one came forward physically that morning. Her talk was so sincere and powerful, I feel in my heart others will someday do this and her words will someday play a major part.


Her invitation took this Bristow boy to that day and my time up swimming invitation. Many think the world will soon end. Even if it goes on for a thousand years, yours could end today. Many have perished and never got around to making the most important decision of their life. The Bible makes it quite clear why the world is still here. Jesus is waiting as long as he can to give others more time. 


                      When you have to make a choice and don't make it, that is in itself

                      a choice.                                                                                   William James


                       People who drink to drown their sorrow should be told that sorrow

                       knows how to swim.                                                             Ann Landers                




                              WHEN I WAS A LITTLE CUSS



There was a couple who lived on the east side of town. I can remember their names but do wish to reveal them to you. I have learned there are two ways to offend people when you write. One group gets mad if you leave their names out and another group that gets mad if you don't.


This couple had a two-story white house that was down near the creek. It is where yours truly learned to cuss. This couple never divorced and stayed married their entire lives. There was not central air back then and like our house, every window in the house was open to allow air flow. What flowed out of that house quite interesting!


If a verbal fight would break out it was an unwritten rule, we would go get our friends and gather

in the street in front of their home.  These fights could often last a half an hour or so. Sometimes the man would be aware of our presence and tell us to get out of there and go home with a few choice expletives. We never listened or scattered and just laughed it off. I never took notes, but post-fight us boys would gather and try to recall any new cuss words. We would try to look them up in the dictionary, but it seems Daniel Webster was not a cusser.


Both these people were very nice and got along with everyone else they knew. They just seemed not to like each other. They had three kids, so I guess this was not always the case.


There is an episode on the Andy Giffith show about a couple like this. Andy and Barney would tire of getting called to their home about yet another domestic dispute. They made them treat each other with respect and when they did, they were cross with the entire townsfolk.


Bristow did not have a sheriff or a jail. The couple who lived were far more verbally violent than the black and white version on television and far more colorful. When I go feel nostalgic, I often drive down every street in town. It is a small town and it doesn't take long.  This couple has since passed on. When I pass in front of their old home, I think back to when I was a little cuss and smile every single time as I round the corner. 


                              Every couple needs to argue now and then. Just to prove that the relationship 

                              is strong enough to survive it.                         Nicholas Sparks



                              Marriage resembles a pair of shears, so joined that they cannot be separated; often 

                              moving in opposite directions yet always punishing anyone who comes between them.

                                                                                                                 Sydney Smith



















                                        MY SHINING MOMENT





Right off our back porch, a small section of sidewalk went a short way out into the yard. That is where my grandfather, "Paw Paw" would park his big Harley motorcycle when he would come to visit. Us boys would hear the chug a chug of the 1200 cc machine a long way off as he entered our little town. He was a police officer and always carried a firearm on him never in sight. 


He would chat with all of us and then go inside to drink a cup of coffee or two with my mom. He would trade bikes from time to time, but he always rode the biggest and newest model always with big saddle bags. It was understood that we could look at his motorcycle, but we were not allowed to touch it. 


I do not know what came over me that day. I must have been feeling bad about myself. Several of my friends were staring at the big blue Harley with chrome shining in the sunlight. I guess I wanted my very own shining moment. My friends gasped as I flung my leg over the seat and sat upon it. I managed to take it off the kickstand and felt like king upon my very own throne. My buddies looked at me in awe and yet had a concerned look on their faces.


It was all I could do to hold it up. My toes barely made it to the ground, and my legs were spread wider than I had anticipated. I bounced a little from toe to toe to give each leg a little break. All of a sudden, my left leg began to feel weak and tremble. The bike fell down on the sidewalk on its left side!


I knew we had we get it up and back on the kickstand. All of us were on the right side pulling with all our strength trying to pull it up. Even though there were 5-6 of us there, Paw Paw yelled my name. Whatever happen to innocent until proven guilty? I must admit it was a pretty good guess.



My buddies who I played with and hung out with ran for their lives. They left me alone with an angry policeman. I would have ran too and I had seen him practice shooting his pistol many times. I knew he was a very good shot and could probably pick me off even on the run.


The crash did not damage the bike in any way. The bike was ok, and my grandfather said very little. The look of disappointment on his face was far worse and hurt me more than a butt whooping. I did not even know what the word "grace" even meant back then. I saw it up close and personal that day. I sure knew at that moment he loved me even far more than he did that big blue motorcycle.


                               Only those who see themselves as utterly destitute can fully appreciate

                                the grace of God.                                                                Erwin Lutzer



                                Curiosity killed the cat, for a while I was a suspect.

                                                                                                                                 Steven Wright




                                         GET THE PICTURE?



As I think back, I was on horseback and it was about four in the evening. I had ridden my horse Charity to a different county. I know that sound far-fetched, but the next county over was only five miles from my home.


I had been down that way several times down through the years. There was an old covered bridge that connected the two counties. It allowed traffic to cross over the wide creek far below. We lived in Perry County and right across the bridge was Spencer County.


As your entered Spencer County, you entered the small town called Huffman's Mill. Years ago, there was a large mill there and people came from far away to do business there. The mill owner was a wealthy man and had built a large plantation style home that is still lived in to this very day. There was a man who was a friend of the mill owner who would sometimes stay overnight. Sometimes his young son would tag along with him and would stay in the home with his dad. This young lad went on to become the President of our country. To this day, I cannot drive through there without thinking about Abraham Lincoln visiting and staying in that very house!


If that was not enough, my dad would tell be that two people could talk across the creek and if they would call their neighbor by phone, it would be a long-distance call. 


It was a warm late summer's day.  I had my shirt off and Charity had a little sweat going. I was sixteen years' old and I was very skinny back then. I know you are thinking I must have a great memory. My memory is not bad thank you, but the picture and caption really are really a big help. 


What picture? I had just ridden back across the old bridge and was heading home. A small car stopped and a man got out. He waited until I rode up to him. He said he was a photographer from the Louisville Courier Journal and asked if he could take my picture. I agreed and he got set up for the shot. He wanted me to recreate the shot. I went back across the bridge and waited for my cue. I can still hear the sound of my steed's hoofbeats echoing off those old boards. He snapped my picture right as I exited the bridge. He took down my address and promised to send a copy to me.  He added my name and age and put even put Charity's name in there as well. He followed through. Even before it came to the house, several other people who received that paper sent the article to my parents. 


I do not know what ever became of that picture. I would love to have a copy to show my grandchildren.

Recently I came across a quote that caused to memory to cross my mind. As I age I will soon like all have to cross over from life to death. That picture taker will not be there waiting for me, but my Maker

 will be and for that reason I am not afraid. Get the picture?


                              The grave itself is but a covered bridge, leading from light to light, through

                               a brief darkness.                       

                                                                                                             Henry Wadesworth Longfellow



                               Courage is being scared to death - and saddling up anyway.


                                                                                                                            John Wayne


                               I've often said, " There's nothing better for the inside of a man than the outside

                               of a horse."                                                                          Ronald Reagan 

 







                                                                     THE GOOFY LOOKING DOG                 



My dad and I had access to a piece of property that was prime rabbit hunting. It was owned by my Uncle Wayne's mother. We had different rabbit dogs down through the years but for a short period of time we did not. There was an elderly old gentleman who said he had a good dog, and he would bring him along if he could hunt with us and we were all set.


It was a beautiful late fall day on a Saturday morning. My dad arrived there first and our hopes were high. It wasn't long we heard a car coming up the old gravel road. Sure enough, it was our hunting partner, and he pulled up and parked his old car.


At first, we did not see the dog and I wondered if the old man had forgot him. It was laying down in the back seat. He opened the rear door of the car and the dog jumped out and looked all around. As it did my dad and I exchanged glances and I think we were both thinking the same thing.


This dog did not look anything close to a beagle. It was tall and had long legs and could win first, third, and fifth in an ugly dog contest! The old man struggled to put on his tan hunting vest that had a pouch in the back for carrying game. Dad and I stood there staring at the dog and the dog looked back as us as if he knew our thoughts. 


We went down a steep hill, and the dog went right into a dense thicket. In no time the dog had jumped a rabbit and was hot on its trail. That goofy looking dog had a deep rich bark that carried a long way through the hills and fields. If a jumped rabbit did not hole up that dog would stay on him and we were impressed. I do not remember how many rabbits we got that day.  I want to tell you that dog could hunt! I think we might have been able to come up with a hundred dollars apiece but knew he wouldn't sell him. 


When I think back on that day it always makes me think of a Bible story. God sent Samuel to a small village to anoint the future king of Israel. When he saw these big strong looking sons of Jesse, he was sure one of them was the one. God passed over all seven sons and was perplexed. He asked if he had any other sons and he was told the youngest David was out in the fields tending the livestock. Samuel knew this eighth son was the one.


We learn from this story God does not look at the outward appearance but at the heart. He knew this young lad had what it took to be a good shepherd for his people.


That old dog did not look the part, but he had a good heart and had what it took. I had read this Bible story many times and heard it preached as well. I saw an example of something like this with my own eyes and think of that old man and his ugly dog every single time. I do not remember the name of wonderful, beautiful rabbit dog, but the old man's name was Samuel.


                            Beauty is hidden in everything just; learn how to observe.

                                                                                                             Ritu Ghatourey


                            For the Lord seeth not as a man seeth ;for man looketh on the outward

                            appearance, but the Lord looketh at the heart.                                                                                                                                                                                                          1 Sameul 16:7



                                         








                                               

                                                                                            MY PET FISH



Much of my youth was spent in, on, or around the creek than ran through the south side of town. I had a wonderful childhood. I fished many hours in my dad's little boat. Most of the time, I would fish alone.  Once in a while I would take a friend along with me. 


About a mile or so down the curvy creek was a place that widened out into the size of a small pond. On the west side of this was a very large stump. I had caught a few fish in this area before but nothing large enough to keep. 


On one trip I took my buddy, Jay Scott. I had told stories about him before. He is the boy whose dad whipped us on the butts on the banks of this very same creek. When you go through something difficult or painful it forms a bond that lasts a long time.


I know that I am a fisherman because fishermen are known for lying. We paddled very quietly into this opening.  I looked at my buddy and told him there is a one-pound largemouth bass that lives at the base of that old stump. I added I catch him every single time I make it down this far.  I threw my line and red artificial worm perfectly below the stump. I was of course pulling his leg as my back was to him as I smiled. I am glad he could not see the look on my face as something pulled hard on my line.  His eyes got really wide as I reeled in the object pulling bending my fishing pole. 



I pulled the fish up and out of the water up into the boat.  It was a bass about a pound laying between my green tennis shoes. I had to make a decision.  Should I admit I was pulling his leg and keep the fish? If I keep the story I knew I had to let the fish go. I shook my head and looked at him. I said," I told ya!"

The sun was shining on his green wet skin as I held him up the lip. I slowly released that lucky fish back into the water. He slowly swam away and we were both amazed. Jay Scott was blown away by my pet fish, and I was about how much I love stories.


We fished many times after that, but I made sure we never hit that spot again. I was sure I could not pull that off twice. I think God played a trick on me as I tried to play one on him. Jay told many others about my pet fish. Someday I need to set the record straight, but it won't be today. )


                           I went fishing and I used a dotted line. I caught every other fish.

                                                                                                                   Steven Wright


                            Many men go fishing all their lives without knowing that is not fish

                            they are after.                                                            Henry David Thoreau


                                                                        

                                                      THE TIKE AND HIS BIKE                                                          


When I do circle Bristow, there is a certain spot where something bad happened to me long ago. In fact, what happened there so long ago has affected each and every day of my life since. It has caused me difficulty and often much frustration and even embarrassment.


I was five and had just learned to ride my little red bike. I had graduated from training wheels. My dad would get on his bike, and we would ride around town. We were on top of a small hill and I rode out in front of dad. I took off down the hill and had actually made it to the flat area below. My dad called to m and warned a car was coming from behind.


I turned to look back and lost control of my bike. I was knocked out. My dad was beside himself and ran to our house carrying my limp body. I was bleeding from both nostrils and both ears. They rushed me to the hospital and was told to keep talking to me and not to let me fall asleep. After the doctor examined me, he told my parents to get their affairs in order because I most likely would not make to see the next day.


As you know, I made it and ever experience I have had since if by God's hand. I did suffer a severe concussion and had to late quietly for weeks. To this day I am almost completely deaf in my right ear.

I can feel the ticking of an alarm clock as I hold it up on my right side, but I cannot hear it. I often joke about it. My favorite is to tell people I do not think Kim and I would have been married for almost now 44 years if I could hear out of both. It makes it almost impossible me to hear in a restaurant or crowded room. I can hear sounds but cannot tell which direction they are coming from. 


 My lack of hearing and my ears have really ticked me off down through the years. However, it has helped as well as strange as this sounds. When I was in college I would go to bed very early. My roommate was amazed how I could climb up and get in my bed and fall fast asleep. The guys in the hall were loud and rambunctious. I explained I just put my good ear into the pillow and turned the sounds of B TOWN off. Another plus is like you I have my share of haters and doubters. I cannot hear what they are saying behind my back.


My doctor was Dr. Fred Smith. He was a close family friend and after that never called me by my name.  He always called me" Hard Head." Kim never had the pleasure of meeting this wonderful man. She has carried on this tradition and has called me that several times down through the years as well as other things!  


                 Nobody gets to live life backward. Look ahead, that is where your future is.

                                                                                                                                             Ann Landers


                  The crisis of today is the joke of tomorrow.

                                                                                                                                H.G. Wells



                  If people are doubting how far you can go, go so far you can't hear them anymore.

                                                                                                                               Michele Ruiz









                                                                                            THE TREE AND ME



Not long ago, I had a little extra time, and I went out of my way to cut through the little town where I grew up. Over the years I have done this many times. I am always amazed how this stirs my mind of memories long since forgotten.


I usually drive through the entire town and hit every street. I usually stop and think when I get to my homeplace.  The house had been torn down years ago, but I can still see it. I can still walk through

each room and every room in my mind. 


The side yard facing the street is where we spent most of our time. My friends and I would play tackle football there.  It is where we would play tag and many times wrestle. When I was a boy, the yard seemed as large as a forty-acre field. When I became an adult, I would drive by and smile how small it really was.


My dad planted a small little tree in the yard. It was about the size of a baseball when I was a teenager. I spent a lot of time on horseback in my youth. I would tie up my horses' reins to that tree when I took a break or when mom called us to supper. The tree continued to get bigger as the years went by.


I was saddened on my last drive by. The giant tree was there but was no longer standing. It was all there but a storm or possibly lightning had toppled it. It had stood so tall and strong for so long.  It bothered me more than I would like to admit. I think perhaps it was because so many things in my life that were there are now gone including people.


I recently turned 68 years old. I am having some health issues. I have trouble walking and many days use my paddle. Please let me explain. I bought a paddle in a shop in Florida. The paddle was broken off but the stick part is sturdy and a little longer. This helps because I too have shrunk in height but still am taller than most. The boys will tell me not to forget my cane. I kidding forbid them to call it such.  I prefer to refer it as my paddle so I can sleep at night. 


I am amused because that little side yard is starting to look larger since I am having mobility issues. Down through the years it has not changed but to my surprise I have. My perspective of it has caused me to look at it differently. This wonderful precious gift God has given us continues to amaze me. It teaches us lessons one cannot learn any other way.


                               When you finally go back to your old hometown, you find it

                                wasn't the old home you missed but your childhood.

                                                                                                       Sam Ewing  


                                The soil in return for her service keeps the tree tied to her,

                                 the sky asks nothing and leaves it free.

                                                                                                        Rabindranath Tagore











                                                                                      ON THE LIGHTER SIDE




I grew up on the southside of the town of Bristow. As you entered Bristow on highway 145, you would go over the bridge and would be heading right towards the house where I grew up.  They have since tore down the house and I made the mistake of asking why. They said it was because I lived there and they are trying to rid the town of the memory.


I tell many stories and jokes about Bristow. It is all in fun and the truth is I am very proud of where I am from. I worry that some may not realize I am just joking. I often tell patients that I am kind of famous. I am one of the few who are from there and will admit it.


One day a few friends and I walked up to the small general story. We looked up to see an old truck leave the rode and go down into a big ditch. As the truck hit the bank, both doors flew open and three bodies flew out. We ran to tell our parents. All three occupants were sloppy drunk. One of them was the town drunk, but please realize there was a lot of competition!


The town drunk was laying at the bottom of the ditch on his side and was writhing in pain quite loudly. In a few minutes his best friend came down from the tavern and squatted next to him like a catcher. He said his buddy's name, but the drunk did not hear him. He said it several times each time louder than before. 

He could not hear his friend over his own moaning and groaning. Finally, he did hear his friend and yelled, "What?"


His buddy asked if he could lend him a smoke. The old drunk still moaning and groaning reached into his front pocket and gave his friend a cigarette. He continued to twist and turn in agony. The friend still sitting next to him put the cigarette in his mouth. He was not done. He called his friends name again several times and then asked if he had a lighter. As he continued to twist and moan, he reached into his right front pockets of his jeans and handed his friend the lighter with his eyes still closed.


His buddy never offered any words of comfort or encouragement. He sat there next to his buddy still in the squatting position puffing on the cigarette. All three men were not seriously injured. They were soon back on their feet and back on their favorite bar stool in the tavern.


I love to tell this story. I saw it with my own two eyes. Sometimes life if better than anything on television.


                        I went to a general store but they would not let me buy anything specific.

                                                                                                                              Stephen Wright


                        You are not drunk if you can lay on the floor without holding on.

                                                                                                                              Dean Martin











                                                                                                             


                                      SUNKEN DANGER


About a week ago I was given the honor of baptizing a young woman. She wanted to have this done and was to be wed the following evening. The place where this took place was at a small creek above Bristow my hometown.


The Ford is where I was baptized 52 years ago. It is where I baptized our oldest son, Joshua. It wanted to make sure the water was calm and not swollen and flooded. I called the young lady's father, Kevin, and asked if he could run up there and check its status. He lives about two miles away. He reported the water was fine but was a little on the murky side. I joked with him and said my sins must have been quite bad that the water had not cleared up yet!


I have so many memories of this special place. When I was a young boy, this is where we would wash my dad's car. We did not have a water hose. My dad would drive down into the shallow flowing water. We would use buckets to pour water on the car prior to soaping. When she was all lathered up, we would bend down and again fill our buckets to rinse it off.


There is a small bridge across the creek. This was a popular swimming hole as I was growing up. We would ride up to the Ford on our bikes and play all afternoon like little water dogs. We could not ever dive headfirst off the bridge. The waters depth was on average about 8-9 feet.We always jumped feet first and did cannon balls to see who could make the biggest splash.


That evening, I was the first to arrive. A few minutes later Kevin showed up. We had a few minutes to shoot the breeze. He remembered hearing stories of other town folk coming here to wash their vehicles. 


I shared a story of something that almost happened here years ago but thank God did not. We came up to play in the cool water on an especially hot summer day. We parked all our bikes up on the bridge and we all were very eager to cool off.


My dad had a hard and fast rule. Before we jumped in, we had to go below and check for obstructions such as large logs that from the last flood. My dad was at work and over an hour away. He would never know if we left out the safety check. I was ready to jump but remembered I had promised him that I would always do this.


I first waded and then swam out to check for debris. I hit something very large and actually had a big cut on my knee from the collision. It was an old potbellied iron cast stove. It must have taken 3-4 very strong men to lift it up and over the rail and dumped it down into the creek. Tragedy was averted because I had listed to my dad's sage advice. How careless this was not to think about the others who might come after them.


Afterward I told them the definition of a ford was a shallow place in a stream where we can cross over. How fitting this young gal had given her life to Christ and had crossed over from death to life!


I thought I was driving home afterward how young people can be hurt by something that is not there. As parents we should leave behind a strong legacy of faith. We need to teach them to read their Bibles

and listen to the words has given us to protect us from mishaps in our own lives.


 He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved; but he that believeth not shall be dammed.

                                                                                           Mark 16:16


When you have to make a choice and you don't make it, that is in itself a choice.                                                                          William James