tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78968584901303956482023-11-16T03:31:30.496-08:00Whittler's HollowWhittlers Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11172919538549845660noreply@blogger.comBlogger59125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896858490130395648.post-81306635152082124222011-02-10T07:35:00.000-08:002011-02-10T07:44:05.635-08:00Nelson and Lela<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"My parents were married for almost seventy years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They lived through the depression, my Dad going to war, the birth of three children and countless times of not having enough money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My father always kissed my mother hello and goodbye and held her hand when they rode in the car. They celebrated two anniversaries, November 15, the day they were married and March 9, the day they met.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dad loved to tell the story of his first meeting with Mom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His family was moving into the White Springs community and a low overhanging limb was blocking the truck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His father sent him to the nearest house to borrow a saw.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The closest house happened to be my mother’s and she helped him find the tools to remove the limb.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were 9 and 8 years old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The date was March 9, 1924.</span></div><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>I asked my father what his secret was for staying happily married for that long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Son,” he said.”Your mother and I had an agreement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was to handle all of the small decisions and I was to handle all the big decisions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Luckily there hasn’t been a big decision yet.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Don’t marry someone you can live with, marry someone you can’t live without."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Love is like penicillin shot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s good for you, but you know it’s going to be a pain in the butt."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"No matter how many times you help bathe your mother or how many times you help feed her or help</span> get her get dressed, it will always be at least one less time than she did those things for you."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div>Whittlers Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11172919538549845660noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896858490130395648.post-74238846222354183322011-02-09T06:11:00.000-08:002011-02-09T06:11:01.814-08:00Nelson and the Flying Lesson<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Dad and I were enjoying our usual Sunday morning drive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew Dad missed attending church, but we both looked forward to our weekly adventures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we neared the river, Dad reached for his Coke and peanut butter crackers and said, “Tom, if I were going to ask you to learn to fly, would you take lessons from a bird or a mammal?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My father is always asking quirky and thought provoking questions but this one seemed fairly straight forward.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“A bird,” I said confidently.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> "</span>Why would you do that?” he quizzed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Because a bird can fly,” I answered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dad paused, took a long drink from his Coke and said, “An ostrich is a bird and it can’t fly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A bat is a mammal and it can.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is not what someone is called that is important; it is what they can do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Find out if someone can fly before you label them." How many people could teach us wonderful things if we took the time to find out if they “knew how to fly”? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><em>"Don’t try to be famous, try to be unforgettable. People forget famous people. You can’t remember who won the Academy Award for best actress in 1963 but you remember your fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Cunningham."</em></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><em>"I don’t have enemies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just have friends I haven’t convinced yet."</em></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><em>"If someone offers you a gift, take it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do not deny them the joy of giving."</em></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><em>"You have to change in order to become better."</em></span></div>Whittlers Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11172919538549845660noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896858490130395648.post-48075153559619658432011-02-08T05:26:00.000-08:002011-02-09T05:34:12.058-08:00Nelson and Working on Sunday<span style="font-family: inherit;">There are some ways I'm just like him</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Some ways he was just like me</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And sometimes when the mirror's dim</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">His face is clear to see</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Tonight the winds of heaven</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Blow the stars across the sky</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I brought my father with me</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I couldn't say goodbye </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Michael Smith “I Brought My Father With Me”</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Dad was never happy that my brother and I did not continue the family tradition of not working on Sunday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we were younger we were not even allowed to fish or swim on the “Lord’s Day”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My parents took resting on the seventh day seriously and in the years after I left home, my not resting was cause for many interesting and ongoing discussions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During one of these discussions, I decided to use the Bible to justify my cutting grass on Sunday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Dad, doesn’t the Bible say in Luke 14 that a person can get their ox out of the ditch on the Sabbath?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yes, Son,” Dad responded. “The Bible does say you can get your ox out of the ditch on Sunday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You just need to quit putting your ox in the ditch on Sunday.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><em>"It’s called work because it’s hard to do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even a mule backs up to do it."</em></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><em>"The road that brought you in here mad can take you out of here happy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The direction you travel is up to you."</em></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><em>"Worry is like rocking in a rocking chair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It gives you something to do but you don’t get anywhere by doing it."</em></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><em>"If you have a car, you will have car problems.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you have an airplane, you will have airplane problems.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Problems are the cost of having things."</em></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><em>"Teachers, be nice to your A students, they will come back and teach. Be nice to your C students, they will be rich enough to build you a new school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Be nice to all of your students, because some will be taking care of you in the nursing home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone you teach will eventually touch your life."</em></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><em>"Whose life will you change today?"</em></span></div>Whittlers Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11172919538549845660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896858490130395648.post-39675834994650328762011-02-07T05:00:00.000-08:002011-02-07T05:00:19.325-08:00Nelson and the Yellow Jackets<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">My younger brother Kenny went to see my parents a few years ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had promised to help Dad do some projects around the house and this seemed like a good time of year to get them done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mother was working in the yard when he drove up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Where’s Dad?” he yelled as he was getting out of his truck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“He was headed toward the barn about 15 minutes ago,” Mom responded. “I guess he’s working down there.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dad’s barn was built in the 1920’s and had seen its better days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was filled with a collection of “treasures” that Dad had accumulated over the years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Approaching the barn, my brother could see Dad in the loft.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was standing in the loft opening about 8 feet from the ground, holding a pitchfork and staring at the stacks of hay he was moving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Suddenly he started swatting at his ears and immediately launched himself out of the loft.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He continued swatting and my brother says that he would swear Dad was trying to fly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As he neared the ground, Dad tucked his legs, hit the ground with a thud, and came to rest at my brother’s feet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What’s wrong Dad?” my brother asked. “Don’t you know a 75 year old man shouldn’t be jumping out of the barn loft?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You could have killed yourself.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dad slowly got to his feet and brushed the grass from his pants.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“To tell you the truth Son, those yellow jackets never asked how old I was and they probably wouldn’t have cared if I’d told them.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><em>"You can’t cure stupid. You can hope they go into remission, but you can’t cure it."</em></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><em>"Some people are on a different level of smart."</em></span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><em>"You won’t ever know if you built it too strong but you’ll know fairly quickly if you didn’t build it strong enough."</em></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><em>"Can’t never could do anything."</em></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><em>"If lifting weights is good for you, why are they called dumbbells?"</em></span></div>Whittlers Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11172919538549845660noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896858490130395648.post-62963822844211511102011-02-04T05:08:00.000-08:002011-02-04T05:08:06.919-08:00Nelson's Bible (Conclusion)<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“About a year ago I was in the auditorium at church and your dad was sitting in his usual seat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I walked down the aisle and spoke to him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘How are you doing Brother Nelson?’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Are you ready for a great morning service?’ <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘You know I am son.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sit down. It’s a while until the service starts. That’s a nice Bible you have there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Isn’t that the one your mother gave you when you and Tom were about 13?’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Yes sir it is.’ I replied. ‘I have had this Bible my entire life,’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘It must be a good one’, he said. “Mine’s falling apart.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I looked at the worn, frayed book in his hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The cover was battered from being held by those calloused hands, the edges of the pages were torn from his fingers searching for just the right words.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were stains on the pages, stains that could have been sweat from reading the Word after a hard day’s work or tears from comforting someone in need.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As my eyes moved to my Bible sitting on the pew, I thought about why our Bibles were different.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your father taught me a great lesson that day. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In his own way he showed me that some people read the Bible and some people just carry it on Sundays.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Tom, Brother Nelson would be proud of me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am well on my way to wearing out my first Bible.”</span></div><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><em><span style="font-family: inherit;">"I say grace before every meal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But most of the time only God and I know it."</span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><em><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Belief is thinking that a chair will hold you up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Faith is sitting in the chair."</span></em></span></div><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><em><span style="font-family: inherit;">"There is no right way to do the wrong thing."</span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><em><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Live your life as if it is the only Bible someone will ever read."</span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><em><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Don’t worry about what other people do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s their little red wagon and they are going to have to pull it."</span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><em><span style="font-family: inherit;">Tomorrow:Nelson and the yellow jackets</span></em></div></span></span></span>Whittlers Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11172919538549845660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896858490130395648.post-50017475686158875772011-02-03T06:14:00.000-08:002011-02-03T06:33:07.983-08:00Nelson's Bible (Part 1)<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">The morning Dad passed away was a whirl of activity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People were coming in and out the house and, being good Southern neighbors, everyone was bringing food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was numb and slowly beginning to get into survival mode.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I looked around the den and my eyes fell upon Dad’s Bible lying on the kitchen table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was battered and worn with many of the pages falling out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You could tell it was well read and well loved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I went across the room and picked it up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This piece of my father’s life was the sum of everything that he lived for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I held it in my hand, I thought of all of the comfort that this book had given my family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of my lifelong friends had just arrived.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Isn’t that your father’s Bible?” he asked as he sat down at the table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I would recognize it anywhere.” “Yes it is,” I replied, pouring myself a cup of coffee.” “Well, actually it is his latest Bible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are three more worn out ones in his bedroom.” He laughed and reached for the Bible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Let me tell you a story about Brother Nelson,” he said as he gently picked up Dad's Bible.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Churches should be hospitals for sinners, not museums for saints."</span><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Churches have stained glass windows so they don’t have to see what’s going on outside.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"If you have to tell people you are a Christian, then maybe you are trying to convince yourself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you really are, you shouldn’t have to tell them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They should already know, because they have seen the way you live your life."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"The Lord provides for the sparrow, but he doesn’t drop the worm in his nest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We all have to do in order to get."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"If someone tells me that they are going to pray for me, I let them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know I need the prayers and they may need to practice."</span></div>Whittlers Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11172919538549845660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896858490130395648.post-53463996034606104202011-02-02T05:40:00.000-08:002011-02-02T07:24:02.774-08:00Nelson and Shania<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Dad and I were on our way to my brother’s farm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing special was on tap, Dad just needed to get out the house for a while.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was deep in thought and he was staring out of the window of the truck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When a new song came on the radio, Dad perked up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Isn’t that the one I like to watch sing?” he asked. My father was always interested in music but this comment surprised me. “Yes Dad. That’s Shania Twain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t know you were into country music,” I said. “How do you know who sings that song?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I watch her on TV sometimes. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s real easy to look at. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know God is good to all of us, but He was especially good to that young lady.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yes He was, Dad.” I replied smiling.” Yes He was.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After all, I am my father’s son.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Your Uncle Cecil always said 'You can’t make men too rich, women too pretty, or coffee too strong'.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"I like pretty women and I don’t like coffee. But both sure smell good."</span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;">"She’s not big, she’s just overfed."</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"I wouldn’t take a million dollars for him and I wouldn’t give you a nickel for another one just like him."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Good days or bad days depend on which side of the grass you are looking at.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you are looking the top, it is a good day."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"'When saying something that is not flattering about someone, always end with 'Bless their heart'”.</span></div>Whittlers Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11172919538549845660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896858490130395648.post-43705152166276260902011-02-01T05:59:00.000-08:002011-02-09T12:57:17.412-08:00Nelson and The Doctor<span style="font-family: inherit;">The leader of the band is tired</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And his eyes are growing old</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">But his blood runs through my instrument</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And his song is in my soul</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">My life has been a poor attempt</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">To imitate the man</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm just a living legacy</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">To the leader of the band</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Dan Fogelberg “Leader of the Band”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Dad was trimming limbs from the apple trees when the ladder slipped and he fell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He tried to catch himself, but his head hit the base of the tree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The impact opened a cut about 2 inches long on his forehead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I put him into the truck and drove to Dr. Rowe’s office.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“This is embarrassing,” he groaned as we sat in the exam room. “An eighty year old man is not supposed to have his son take him to the doctor.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“An eighty year old man is not supposed to be climbing apple trees either,” I quipped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just then, Dr. Rowe entered the room. “What happened, Mr. Robertson?” he asked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Without missing a beat my father replied “Doc, it’s my wife, my firewood, my story.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">Some of you are requesting Nelsonisms on particular topics. Here are some of his thoughts on life.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"It’s not a mountain for a climber."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Anyone who thinks that the sweat of a working man stinks has their nose too high in the air."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"If you think you can, you can.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you think you can’t, you can’t."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"You miss all of the shots you don’t take."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"The difference in a person who would like to do something, a person who wants to do something and a person who does something is the level of their commitment."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"If your choices are do nothing or do something, always do something."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"The person you are when no one is watching is the person you are."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div>Whittlers Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11172919538549845660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896858490130395648.post-12027249823003637122011-01-31T04:36:00.000-08:002011-01-31T04:36:11.155-08:00Nelson on The Good Old DaysDad was 93 when he died and loved to tell me about the "Old Days." I cannot imagine the changes he lived through or the things he saw. I know his head stone reads 1916-2010 but the two dates are not what's important, it's the dash in between. Here are some Nelsonism's on the dash.<br />
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">"My mother and father are gone. All of my brothers and my sister have passed. All of my childhood friends are dead. No one is alive that has known me for my entire life. It’s kind of lonely, but I don’t have any peer pressure now."</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">"I never took a driving test. I just went to the court house and paid a nickel and they gave me my license. I’ve never had a ticket and never had an accident. Best nickel I ever spent."</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">"You are your ancestor’s descendant and your descendant’s ancestor. Wrap your brain around that one."</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">"It only cost a nickel to get into the movies, but I didn’t have the nickel."</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">"I am getting stronger in my old age. When my wife and I first married, it took two hands to carry $10.00 worth of groceries. Now I can carry $75.00 worth of groceries with one hand."</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">"I have never had a credit card. If I can’t afford it, I don’t need it. I may want it, but if I need it I will save up until I can buy it."</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">"This is the fifth last car I will ever have to buy."</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">"I’m not hard of hearing, I’m tired of listening."</div>Whittlers Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11172919538549845660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896858490130395648.post-66986793630679962862011-01-30T06:09:00.000-08:002011-01-30T06:48:54.307-08:00Nelson and The Good Samaritan (Conclusion)<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Who would you be?"</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“<span style="font-family: inherit;">I would be the good Samaritan,” I responded. “He’s the one who showed compassion and cared for his neighbor.” “In my younger days, I would have said the same thing.” Dad said.” But the older I get, the more I think there is something else to learn from this parable. I have decided that I would be the inn keeper. The Samaritan took the man to the inn and told the inn keeper to care for him. Not only care for him but spend his own money on the promise that he would be paid back. The inn keeper cared for someone he had never met and was given only a promise from someone he didn’t know. The Samaritan had a story written about him, the inn keeper did most of the work. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">We need to take care of people. That’s our job on this earth and our payment is God’s promise to us.” I just sat quietly and thought about what my father had said. This man was still learning and teaching from the book that had guided his life. As he slowly turned and looked out of the window I heard him say under his breath, ”Yep. We just need more inn keepers.” I hope to live my life as the inn keeper lived his. Nelson would be proud. </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">"The person you are when no one is watching is the person you are."</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">"If your choices are do nothing or do something, always do something."</div>Whittlers Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11172919538549845660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896858490130395648.post-39358094281328400552011-01-29T05:48:00.000-08:002011-01-29T05:48:59.869-08:00Nelson and The Good Samaritan (Part 1)<span style="font-family: inherit;">Dad and I were riding around on a warm Sunday morning, enjoying the beauty of a spring day. As he has gotten older, his Sundays are spent more often with my wife, Diane, and me than at church. “Do you want to talk Bible this morning?” he said. “Sure,” I said, knowing that this was the opening he was waiting for. My father had read the Bible literally every day of my life. Sometimes we read it as a family, sometimes he read it alone. “Do you remember the story in Luke chapter 10?” he asked. “It was always one of my favorites. “ I remembered hearing this story all of my life. “Isn’t that the one about the good Samaritan? I bet you thought I wouldn’t remember that.” “You’d better remember it, Son. I read that story to you at least once a month when you were little. If you could be anyone in that story, who would it be?” I thought about the story Dad was referring to. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Luke 10:30-37 Jesus answered, "A certain man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and he fell among robbers, who both stripped him and beat him, and departed, leaving him half dead. By chance a certain priest was going down that way. When he saw him, he passed by on the other side. In the same way a Levite also, when he came to the place, and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a certain Samaritan, as he traveled, came where he was. When he saw him, he was moved with compassion, came to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. He set him on his own animal, and brought him to an inn, and took care of him. On the next day, when he departed, he took out two denarii, and gave them to the host, and said to him, ‘Take care of him. Whatever you spend beyond that, I will repay you when I return.’ Now which of these three do you think seemed to be a neighbor to him who fell among the robbers?" He said, "He who showed mercy on him." Then Jesus said to him, "Go and do likewise." </span><br />
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Who would you be? As Paul Harvey would say, "Tomorrow, the rest of the story."Whittlers Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11172919538549845660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896858490130395648.post-44486942274994533022011-01-28T05:23:00.000-08:002011-01-28T06:23:45.192-08:00Nelson, Little Brother and Me<span style="font-family: inherit;">After my post yesterday, Kenny mentioned to me that big brothers have the "I am older than you and Mom and Dad put me in charge so I now control everything. Shut up and do what I told you to do" meter. He informed me that I ranked higher on the big brother meter than he did on the little brother meter that I referred to on my last post so I think a few more Nelsonism are needed. </span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The world’s a better place because you boys are in it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Your Mother and I raised you so everyone else would love you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were going to love you anyway.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When we brought your brother home from the hospital, you wanted to send him back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I see you still feel that way sometimes.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">No one can make corn bread, tea or fried chicken like you mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They may be good, but they are not your mom’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These are some of the things that you will miss for the rest of your life.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Try to better than average.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Average is just the top of the bottom.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Your mother and I always discussed the decisions we made concerning you boys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Two hearts are better than one.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Let’s get this straight son.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You dropped your BB gun, it went off accidentally, and shot your little brother in the butt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Five times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Are you sure you don’t want to rethink the truth on that one?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The only difference in a brother and a bother is the letter “r”.</span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;">It takes two sons to make one brother.</span>Whittlers Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11172919538549845660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896858490130395648.post-64314014330040654502011-01-27T05:55:00.000-08:002011-01-27T07:21:40.841-08:00Nelson on Fathers and Sons<span style="font-family: inherit;">My younger brother Kenny is one of the best singer/songwriters I have heard. I am not saying this because he's my brother, I am saying it because it's the truth. Kenny used to be my "little" brother but now we both agree on "younger" brother. Like most little brothers, Kenny ranked high on the "pain in the %^&$" meter when we were growing up and as a result many Nelsonisms began to deal with fathers, sons and brothers. Here are a few more of Nelson's thoughts.</span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Lightning, lightning bug.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Only one word is different. Which one would you rather be hit by?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Little things do matter, son."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"My sons had a drug problem. I drug them to church. I drug them to school. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I drug them <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>everywhere they <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>needed to be."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"If someone says'you are just like your grandfather', you’re on the right track."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">"The greatest compliment someone can give me is 'You’re your father’s son'."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Take your little brother with you; he’s the only one you’ll ever have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From the looks of it, he’s the only one you’ll ever need."</span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Three and one half acres is not enough room for a horse." (Nelson, when I asked for a pony).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> "</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">The dog pen is plenty big for a pony." (Nelson, when my little brother asked for a pony).</span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"My sons didn’t get their good looks from me, I still have mine."</span></div>Whittlers Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11172919538549845660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896858490130395648.post-27977038828739248672011-01-26T05:18:00.000-08:002011-01-26T05:18:34.970-08:00The Day Nelson Preached (Part 2)As the week went on, he worked on his speech every night. When I visited his home, he would read parts of it to me. He was really proud of the thoughts he put to paper. When Senior Citizens Day arrived, he was ready. He slowly got up from his spot on the pew, the place he sat every Sunday for seventy five of his ninety years, Nelson’s seat, and slowly stepped to the pulpit. He drew himself up to his full height and began to speak. “The pastor asked me to share some bits of wisdom with you today. I will begin by telling you a great secret. The secret of how I lived for 90 years. It works and I promise that if you do this simple thing, you too will live a long life.” As everyone leaned forward to hear this wonderful insight into life, my father slowly lowered his head. When he raised his eyes, there was a sparkle that I had seen many times in my life. It was there more often before my Mom died, but now it was there again. With a voice as calm and strong as any evangelist, Dad told everyone his key to life. “Always remember, breathe in after you breathe out.” The pastor and congregation began to laugh. Dad had them where he wanted. He told them all of the stories that I had grown up with. My Uncle Cecil and the bees, meeting my mother, swimming across the river with his brothers and many stories about growing up in this community spilled from my Father’s memory. The next 30 minutes flew by. When Dad finished the story of his life, there was not a dry eye in the auditorium. He walked back to his seat and calmly sat down. He leaned over to me and said in a low voice, “I know it sounded silly, but I was serious about the breathing thing. We focus on all of the things going on in our lives and forget about the gifts God has given us. The simple gift of life is the best. Don’t worry about the length of your life; it will take care of itself. Worry about the width and depth of your life. It is the only part we control.” <br />
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When things get hectic in your life, remember the words of my father on that Sunday morning. “Breathe in after you breathe out.”Whittlers Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11172919538549845660noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896858490130395648.post-62423255696770000152011-01-25T05:30:00.000-08:002011-01-25T06:52:25.132-08:00The Day Nelson Preached (Part 1)My father was asked to speak at his church’s Senior Citizens Recognition Day. During my life my father has been, at one time or another, chairman of the deacons, assistant pastor, music director, Sunday School superintendent, custodian, finance director, and any other job that was necessary at White Springs Baptist Church. He had spoken to congregations all over the county and had always done a more than an adequate job. But this time it was different. He seemed nervous and when I questioned him about it he said simply, “This isn’t talking about the Bible, this is talking about me. The pastor wants me to tell the congregation my life’s story and I’m not sure what to say. I haven’t done anything interesting.” As I listened to him, I thought of the things that had occurred during his lifetime. He was born on May 17, 1916 and saw more changes in his world than I can imagine. His father bought the first radio in the community, he remembered seeing his first airplane, his first automobile, the first electric light bulb, five wars, cell phones, computers, a man orbiting the earth, Neil Armstrong, Jackie Robinson, John Kennedy and was married to my Mom for 69 years. He reared three children, fought in WW II, was the first fire chief in our town and served on the first City Council. But this man did not think of his life as anything other than what he was supposed to do.<br />
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“Just tell them about all of the things that you told me,” I said as we sat under the tree out back. “I always loved hearing about the old days.” “You had to listen,” he explained. “I controlled your allowance. These people are not interested in the ramblings of a 90 year old man.” I thought to myself, “If you only knew the impact you have had on this community.”<br />
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Tomorrow-The Day Nelson Preached (Part 2)Whittlers Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11172919538549845660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896858490130395648.post-30088018838525120432011-01-24T05:59:00.000-08:002011-01-24T17:27:00.117-08:00More on Getting OlderWord spread that I was collecting Dad's sayings and people have begun to call and tell me ones they remember. This is becoming a way for the community to remember Dad and celebrate the way he lived his life. Some of these Nelsonisms are from these calls.<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Don’t mess with old."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Never say” good bye”, always say “See you later”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It gives us hope."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">If you asked Dad if he had been to a particular place or seen a certain event, his response, if he had not already experienced it, was always the same.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> "</span>Not yet."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">”The Devil can’t have me and the Lord is not ready for me yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When He is, whoever is with me will be the second one to know."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"A man called the other day to offer me a metal roof for my house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He said that it would last me the rest of my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told him, 'I’m 91 years old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A cardboard roof will last me the rest of my life.'<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But now that I think of it that metal roof might not be a bad idea.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Tom, you need to order some more tags for the bags I make.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I only have enough to last 3 more years."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Nelson at 90)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Dad and I ran into one of his nephews one Saturday morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It’s good to see you Uncle Nelson. How is it going?” he said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Without missing a beat my father responded, “At my age if you are being seen and not viewed, it is a good day.”</span></div>Whittlers Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11172919538549845660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896858490130395648.post-59286746206292338202011-01-21T06:08:00.000-08:002011-01-21T06:20:40.258-08:00Getting Older<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Dad had a unique perspective on getting old. I think he embraced the process of aging and truly believed that "whatever age you are is the age you are supposed to be". The next few posts are some his thoughts on getting older. Enjoy.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"I am not old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve just lived a long time."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">"I never realized I went to school with so many old men."</span></div><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"I’ve been to see the old people at the nursing home." (Nelson at age 90)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">"Try to live until you’re 100.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The obituaries rarely have someone dying after they are 100."</span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"When people ask if I have lived in Alabama all of my life, all I can say is 'Not yet'.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"I knew I was getting old when people quit telling me I was good looking and started telling me I was looking good."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"At my age I don’t even buy green bananas."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Surely I’ve got something they can use." (Said when he signed his organ donor card upon renewing his driver’s license at 90.)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Getting older is better than not getting older."</span></div>Whittlers Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11172919538549845660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896858490130395648.post-33395731006324057312011-01-20T07:07:00.000-08:002011-01-20T07:07:53.597-08:00Nelson's WayHello. My name is Tom and I will be taking over the blog for the next few weeks. Nick is happy is his new home and sends everyone his best. I will try to post pictures of him every now and then to let you see how he is doing. We are getting ready for next year but for the next few post, I will be sharing some humor and wisdom from my father. <br />
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Nelson’s stuff– A collection of comments and rephrasing from the smartest man I ever knew.<br />
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'And now the old man's gone, and I'd give all I own<br />
To hear what he said when I wasn't listening<br />
To my old man'<br />
-Steve Goodman “My Old Man”, 1977<br />
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It has been a year since my father passed away. Like most sons, I never really thought it could happen. I knew it would happen, I just never thought about it. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of him. When things aren’t going well, things he said pop into my head. When things are going well, things he said pop into my head. This is my way of coping with the loss of my best friend and remembering what people in my home town call “Nelsonisms”. Some he invented, some he repeated, some he rephrased, but all have had a profound influence on me. I hope you enjoy the wit and witticisms of my father, Nelson Robertson.<br />
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"Life is like a roll of toilet paper, the closer you get to the end, the quicker it goes." <br />
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"The last pair of pants I’ll wear won’t even need pockets."<br />
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"I will accept you couldn’t, I won’t accept you didn’t."<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">"</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Don’t fight with an old man; we don’t have anything to lose."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">"When things aren't going well, remember, this too shall pass. When things are going well, remember, this too shall pass. Things will always change. Be ready for it." </div>Whittlers Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11172919538549845660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896858490130395648.post-67110998331152642942010-11-14T17:16:00.000-08:002010-11-14T17:16:28.183-08:00Another legendHello again. It has been a busy week in the workshop. Christmas Village was fun and we met a lot of great people. Some of our new friends have interesting blogs themselves. You never know what you will find out about someone. "Steve" promised some pictures of Nick when he gives him to his wife. I can't wait to see his new home. I'm new to this blogging thing and sometimes I feel like Doogie Howser. I guess you have to be old enough to to remember that show and his daily journal entries. I am finding out a lot about other Christmas traditions and I thought you would enjoy this one. Keep in touch.<br />
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T. Nelson Robertson Jr.(Tom)<br />
<br />
The Legend of the Donkey's Bray<br />
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After hiding in Egypt for some years, Joseph decided to move his family back to Nazareth. During the night they camped along the side of the road. One night while they slept, their donkey heard the soldiers' horses coming from afar. Afraid that the soldiers were coming to kill Jesus, the donkey neighed to wake Joseph. He neighed and neighed, again and again, but his voice was just too soft to wake the sleepers. Finally, as the soldiers approached, the donkey prayed for a loud voice to wake the family. When he neighed again, he was rewarded with the loud bray such as donkeys have had ever since.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK_u5CT79nHI-lU9BgBRGa_Ib_gvFfFLepZ6ftwIQ0QcEe2RPq9nWSt6KtCS6mctDsKhmANRDZfDEepQWvziiuCZSoFvOmuWO3RY8occKtL75oUpb68tSjVCW8RP3VSU_ZlUY77Eh1LU6z/s1600/DCP00083.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK_u5CT79nHI-lU9BgBRGa_Ib_gvFfFLepZ6ftwIQ0QcEe2RPq9nWSt6KtCS6mctDsKhmANRDZfDEepQWvziiuCZSoFvOmuWO3RY8occKtL75oUpb68tSjVCW8RP3VSU_ZlUY77Eh1LU6z/s200/DCP00083.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>Whittlers Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11172919538549845660noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896858490130395648.post-7560753510122237652010-11-12T09:42:00.000-08:002010-11-12T09:42:00.727-08:00Annoucing Our GalleryHello again. Some of Nick's friends are sitting in the workshop, hoping to find a new home for the upcoming Holidays. You can see them by going to the <a href="http://whittlershollow.com/2010Gallery.html">Whittler's Hollow 2010 gallery</a>.<br />
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Perhaps you know of someone who would like to adopt one of Nick's friends. <br />
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Merry Christmas.<br />
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TomWhittlers Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11172919538549845660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896858490130395648.post-83103103273782669482010-11-10T05:59:00.000-08:002010-11-10T05:59:19.888-08:00Greeting from Nick's friend<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Hello. My name is Tom and I would like to thank you for following my friend Nick's journey. I promised him that I would keep up the blog. We had a great time at the Christmas Village Gift Show in Birmingham, Alabama last week. Nick is now at home with "Steve" and says he loves his new friends. I can't tell you his exact location because "Steve" is giving him as a gift. A few of Nick's friends will be at my studio in Gadsden, Alabama and Gene and I will be putting some on the Whittler's Hollow web site soon. Here are some pictures of some of the completed figures. I thought you might enjoy some facts about Nick's other friends from around the world so I will research them and let you know what I find out. Keep in touch.<br />
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Tom<br />
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Victorian Father Christmas <br />
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This is a typical, kind Santa as depicted during the reign of Queen Victoria, 1837 to 1897, and featured on postcards of the era. Christmas was a very important event centred around children & family. Many of the customs originated in Germany,(including the Christmas tree), reflecting the heritage of the Queen's husband, Prince Albert. A Victorian Santa often carried a Christmas tree along with 'tons of toys'. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDk6tXTxBVXp2mknudGfmWlCH-fAFHwFHc847u0j68or3eBNDiqVu1OgIX36giNBW2OwYF7_eU4K-rRWMtZkB0gt8kZIbRERgzCBuq-jWLRhJCRL1UmTCqGkezSkrXBMv5vW75aWmU9oT_/s1600/IMG_0495.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDk6tXTxBVXp2mknudGfmWlCH-fAFHwFHc847u0j68or3eBNDiqVu1OgIX36giNBW2OwYF7_eU4K-rRWMtZkB0gt8kZIbRERgzCBuq-jWLRhJCRL1UmTCqGkezSkrXBMv5vW75aWmU9oT_/s200/IMG_0495.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>Whittlers Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11172919538549845660noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896858490130395648.post-69694528970908912422010-10-27T06:13:00.000-07:002010-10-27T06:13:39.275-07:00Final Visit<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggxT2-4SbhzPYlEDWhVqpxc7un1_aN9G6FmyN_wGQ8wu6D1_QPSLLaYiTWxechfOquLE82s5FPgwhxmMMLB6gIDWylbiBtn03BA3oxwT2kVwYrCQy_nifM1KH4SIIaCsqG2xI-JS6KdI-7/s1600/IMG_0472.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggxT2-4SbhzPYlEDWhVqpxc7un1_aN9G6FmyN_wGQ8wu6D1_QPSLLaYiTWxechfOquLE82s5FPgwhxmMMLB6gIDWylbiBtn03BA3oxwT2kVwYrCQy_nifM1KH4SIIaCsqG2xI-JS6KdI-7/s200/IMG_0472.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>Hello for the last time. It has been a great year. I hope following this blog has given you the opportunity to keep the Christmas spirit throughout the year. Mr. Nelson Robertson, Tom’s father, once said that Santa never stops talking to us, we just quit listening. Keep listening and I look forward to seeing you soon, if not in Tom’s shop, then somewhere, sometime, before Christmas. May you all have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. <br />
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Νικόλαος, Bishop of Myra<br />
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<br />
Dear Editor, <br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">am 8 years old. Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus. Papa says, "If you see it in “The Sun”, it's so." Please tell me the truth, is there a Santa Claus? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Virginia O'Hanlon</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
Virginia, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's, are little. In this great universe of ours, man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge. <br />
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Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! How dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus! It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The external light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished. <br />
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Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies. You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if you did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world. <br />
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You tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived could tear apart. Only faith, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernatural beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding. <br />
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No Santa Claus! Thank God! He lives and lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay 10 times 10,000 years from now he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood. <br />
<br />
Francis P ChurchWhittlers Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11172919538549845660noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896858490130395648.post-64460874998369172752010-10-25T06:32:00.000-07:002010-10-25T06:32:32.664-07:00Our next to last visitGerman - Froehliche Weihnachten und ein glückliches Neues Jahr!<br />
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All that is left is for Tom to sign and date me. Each figure he carves carries the date of completion and is given a number beginning with 001 for that particular year. <br />
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Here I am 2010-001. I hope you have enjoyed following me the past 36 weeks. It has been my pleasure to guide you through my creation. I promised some more pictures so here they are. I am looking forward to seeing you at the Christmas Village Festival in Birmingham in November. Feel free to contact me at www.whittlershollow.com if you have any questions. I thought you might enjoy one last Holiday tradition.<br />
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Until our next visit, I remain your friend,<br />
<br />
Nick<br />
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PS. Several of my friends left yesterday for Sue’s house in Abernathy, Alabama.<br />
<br />
According to legend, on Christmas Eve in Germany rivers turn to wine, animals speak to each other, tree blossoms bear fruit, mountains open up to reveal precious gems, and church bells can be heard ringing from the bottom of the sea. Of course, only the pure in heart can witness this Christmas magic. All others must content themselves with traditional German celebrating, of which there is plenty. As a matter of fact, there is so much celebrating that is has to begin on December 6th, St. Nicholas Day.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuGl_zNwpJGHLSGShU0H4bUf79gDbiq2HnJFPtm0rvI_MlbUaI2mnw0Gth6GJ8lUcA1S6UBtsW-bu-vPIvUiSYfGa2fdzgIrg_GQOanFFD4hM134CYGxa7WvlyVo5bR0BdMVKlfgHMFPwn/s1600/IMG_0480.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuGl_zNwpJGHLSGShU0H4bUf79gDbiq2HnJFPtm0rvI_MlbUaI2mnw0Gth6GJ8lUcA1S6UBtsW-bu-vPIvUiSYfGa2fdzgIrg_GQOanFFD4hM134CYGxa7WvlyVo5bR0BdMVKlfgHMFPwn/s320/IMG_0480.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Whittlers Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11172919538549845660noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896858490130395648.post-54973813233537872032010-10-21T06:25:00.000-07:002010-10-21T10:53:53.158-07:00The end is near.<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG83P1urhudwn9W3RcWXbHShAX9XryWHuq_kGVAtilYsdFwSDWB47nfBbdNfJcmGDP3t9j3DbWSPU-P3Z-Z_opqJyndC2t5deSEu0oSxxKVKgt8KSlooRBrs5v86yIJlmD3h3N-osNMCmU/s1600/IMG_0454.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG83P1urhudwn9W3RcWXbHShAX9XryWHuq_kGVAtilYsdFwSDWB47nfBbdNfJcmGDP3t9j3DbWSPU-P3Z-Z_opqJyndC2t5deSEu0oSxxKVKgt8KSlooRBrs5v86yIJlmD3h3N-osNMCmU/s200/IMG_0454.JPG" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 11pt;">Choctaw - Yukpa, Nitak Hollo Chito. </span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 11pt;">The waxing is done and Tom will be here soon to buff and polish me one more time. He uses a special mixture of waxes to achieve the smooth finish that characterizes the collection and hand rubs each figure with a cotton cloth. This finish will last for years. The softer sheen of the waxed figure allows the beauty of the wood to show. Tom says the finish is “in the wood not on the wood”. How do I look? I am not the only Holiday Visitor carved this year. Here is a class picture. Were you able to pick me out? I am still the good looking one in the middle. Tom has done some different things this year, nativities, birds and several sets of Wise Men. Here are pictures of his new carvings. I found some interesting things about Advent. I thought you might enjoy them. </span></div><br />
It cannot be determined with any degree of certainty when the celebration of Advent was first introduced into the Church. The preparation for the feast of the Nativity of Our Lord was not held before the feast itself existed. <br />
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One of the earliest references to Christmas being celebrated on December 25 appeared in Antioch in the middle of the second century. At that time, Christians were still persecuted. An official determination was made in the fourth century, when the Roman emperor Constantine embraced Christianity, thereby ensuring the legality of Christmas celebrations. The Council of Tours in 567 established the period of Advent as a time of fasting before Christmas. They also proclaimed the twelve days from Christmas to Epiphany a sacred, festive season. <br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">According to present usage [1910], Advent is a period beginning with the Sunday nearest to the feast of St. Andrew the Apostle (30 November) and embracing four Sundays. The first Sunday may be as early as November 27th, and then Advent has twenty-eight days, or as late as December 3rd, giving the season only twenty-one days. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The popular idea that the four weeks of Advent symbolize the four thousand years of darkness in which the world was enveloped before the coming of Christ finds no confirmation in the Liturgy. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The familiar carol "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel" belongs to the Advent season since it celebrates the expectation of Christ's coming rather than His actual birth. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO0VCVnnNnPxeZ8W6cA3yhK-0CbRVq86DgoMPyfSKqelFYC7kGuhn-6cCeZYaVKzxuEwVPceFI3PvdGR5d36uBNlPmZwsAjwrt4pb4iEjx6VHeBE-3HzqPwp9i0zZx2XlBcMexhWxoX-uJ/s1600/IMG_0463.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO0VCVnnNnPxeZ8W6cA3yhK-0CbRVq86DgoMPyfSKqelFYC7kGuhn-6cCeZYaVKzxuEwVPceFI3PvdGR5d36uBNlPmZwsAjwrt4pb4iEjx6VHeBE-3HzqPwp9i0zZx2XlBcMexhWxoX-uJ/s200/IMG_0463.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>Whittlers Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11172919538549845660noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896858490130395648.post-77547391356875025412010-10-13T05:46:00.000-07:002010-10-13T05:46:41.118-07:00A cautionary tale<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcr2io9Qjlmgz-9BsMy97ASwxeHcnG8xIK1O-l7TIaLk_IPcX3Pnl5iAzmO4deVUailyuAaQUJhlEpiEGQtkERY1nRiCY176oHvKDjOUXxiIgq1sUz4EEpgiSAM7vmuUg5-cn3LriLEa6w/s1600/IMG_0453.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcr2io9Qjlmgz-9BsMy97ASwxeHcnG8xIK1O-l7TIaLk_IPcX3Pnl5iAzmO4deVUailyuAaQUJhlEpiEGQtkERY1nRiCY176oHvKDjOUXxiIgq1sUz4EEpgiSAM7vmuUg5-cn3LriLEa6w/s200/IMG_0453.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>Tom's friend Gene sent this note yesterday. As we enter the Holiday Season, the lesson in this note is something we all need to remember.<br />
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The Wooden Bowl <br />
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I guarantee you will remember the tale of the Wooden Bowl tomorrow, a week from now, a month from now, a year from now. <br />
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A frail old man went to live with his son, daughter-in-law, and four-year-old grandson. The old man's hands trembled, his eyesight was blurred, and his step faltered. The family ate together at the table. But the elderly grandfather's shaky hands and failing sight made eating difficult. Peas rolled off his spoon onto the floor. When he grasped the glass, milk spilled on the tablecloth.<br />
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The son and daughter-in-law became irritated with the mess. 'We must do something about father,' said the son. 'I've had enough of his spilled milk, noisy eating, and food on the floor.' So the husband and wife set a small table in the corner. There, Grandfather ate alone while the rest of the family enjoyed dinner. Since Grandfather had broken a dish or two, his food was served in a wooden bowl. When the family glanced in Grandfather's direction, sometimes he had a tear in his eye as he sat alone. Still, the only words the couple had for him were sharp admonitions when he dropped a fork or spilled food. The four-year-old watched it all in silence. <br />
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One evening before supper, the father noticed his son playing with wood scraps on the floor. He asked the child sweetly, 'What are you making?' Just as sweetly, the boy responded, 'Oh, I am making a little bowl for you and Mama to eat your food in when I grow up. ' The four-year-old smiled and went back to work. <br />
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The words so struck the parents so that they were speechless. Then tears started to stream down their cheeks.. Though no word was spoken, both knew what must be done. That evening the husband took Grandfather's hand and gently led him back to the family table. For the remainder of his days he ate every meal with the family. And for some reason, neither husband nor wife seemed to care any longer when a fork was dropped, milk spilled, or the tablecloth soiled. <br />
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On a positive note, I've learned that, no matter what happens, how bad it seems today, life does go on, and it will be better tomorrow. <br />
I've learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles four things: a rainy day,the elderly, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights. <br />
I've learned that making a 'living' is not the same thing as making a 'life.' <br />
I've learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance. <br />
I've learned that you shouldn't go through life with a catcher's mitt on both hands.You need to be able to throw something back sometimes. <br />
I've learned that if you pursue happiness, it will elude you.But, if you focus on your family, your friends, the needs of others, your work and doing the very best you can, happiness will find you.<br />
I've learned that whenever I decide something with an open heart, I usually make the right decision. <br />
I've learned that even when I have pains, I don't have to be one. <br />
I've learned that every day, you should reach out and touch someone. People love that human touch -- holding hands, a warm hug, or just a friendly pat on the back. <br />
I've learned that I still have a lot to learn. <br />
I've learned that you should pass this on to everyone you care about.<br />
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I just did!<br />
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NicholasWhittlers Hollowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11172919538549845660noreply@blogger.com1