It was just a normal day at the liar's club. I was sitting with a few friends and we were settling many world problems when the subject of home fix-it stuff came up. I wanted to share so I told them about our kitchen sink. You see, Linda had just told me that when she tried to turn on the water, water sprouted out through the top. My wanting to impress her I quickly explained to her that it was probably just an o-ring that had worn out. So I called the company where we had purchased this fine piece of hardware and ordered a set of o-rings that they suggested. That was all I said. It was not much of a story but it was all I had at the time. My friends sitting near me promptly changed the subject.
As nearly always happens at that club it was not long until almost everyone there had left, leaving only two or three of us who were still trying to think of something interesting to say.
That was when Bob entered the picture. He had been sitting at the far end away from me but apparently had heard every word. He walked up to me and said, "Come on, Willy. I am taking you home and I am going to fix your sink."
I barely knew Bob. Yes, I had met him but we rarely talked. And there he stood ready to help me. And he was sincere. He wasn't looking for any thank-yous or wanting any pay. He simply wanted to be nice. It was a random act of kindness we do not often see. It was a gesture I will never forget.
It was about a week later when I noticed that we had not seen Bob for several days. And then John came in with the story: Bob had been in a wreck and was at the hospital in a coma. It didn't look good and the doctor had said that he was probably not going to make it. He had been hit head on by a car driven by a young man who had just been released from jail having been guilty for the third DUI in less than a month.
Bob died. And I never got the chance to tell him how much I appreciated his very kind offer to help me. So now I want to share it with anyone who happens to be reading this. He was a fine man who spent time longing to help others. What a legacy! I truly think that there is a special place in Heaven for Bob. Rest in peace, my friend. You will be missed.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Another Act of Kindness
It was just two wooden stools. I am not even aware what they were used for. But there they were, sitting in the fellowship hall of our church. So Jim came in and pulled one of them over to sit on. It was pretty shaky so he tried the other one. It was worse. I watched him go find another chair that was stable enough to sit on. I thought that was the end of the story.
But it wasn't.
Today I was in the choir room at church when someone opened the outside door. And there I saw Jim coming from the parking lot carrying two stools. He came in, sat them down, looked at me and smiled.
"Now someone can sit on one of these things if they want to. And it will hold them," he announced.
You probably have guessed what he did. Yes, he did. He took those shabby stools home and made four extra leg rails to stiffen the four that was supposed to do the job, re-glued the other joints, cleaned them up, painted them and brought them back for anyone to use if they needed to. They were like two new stools.
What is it that I am trying to say here? Well, if I had sat on either of them while finding that they needed fixing I would probably have said that I thought someone should fix them and drop it at that. But Jim took them home and fixed them. Without being asked to do so. He did that without telling anyone what he was going to do and returned them without telling anyone what he had done. It was just a simple act of kindness for which he expected no reward at all. He didn't even expect a thank you because he didn't tell anyone what he had done. I would not have known had I not witnessed it without his knowing it.
The little things we do for others come
back to reward us no matter how hard we try to keep it secret. And you could see the reward Jim had received by seeing the smile on his face.
There was a smile on my face, too. I was proud of Jim. And my guess is that God is smiling as well. We don't have to change the world by doing great things. We help change the world by small acts of kindness. Don't you wish we were all a bit like Jim?
But it wasn't.
Today I was in the choir room at church when someone opened the outside door. And there I saw Jim coming from the parking lot carrying two stools. He came in, sat them down, looked at me and smiled.
"Now someone can sit on one of these things if they want to. And it will hold them," he announced.
You probably have guessed what he did. Yes, he did. He took those shabby stools home and made four extra leg rails to stiffen the four that was supposed to do the job, re-glued the other joints, cleaned them up, painted them and brought them back for anyone to use if they needed to. They were like two new stools.
What is it that I am trying to say here? Well, if I had sat on either of them while finding that they needed fixing I would probably have said that I thought someone should fix them and drop it at that. But Jim took them home and fixed them. Without being asked to do so. He did that without telling anyone what he was going to do and returned them without telling anyone what he had done. It was just a simple act of kindness for which he expected no reward at all. He didn't even expect a thank you because he didn't tell anyone what he had done. I would not have known had I not witnessed it without his knowing it.
The little things we do for others come
back to reward us no matter how hard we try to keep it secret. And you could see the reward Jim had received by seeing the smile on his face.
There was a smile on my face, too. I was proud of Jim. And my guess is that God is smiling as well. We don't have to change the world by doing great things. We help change the world by small acts of kindness. Don't you wish we were all a bit like Jim?
Friday, March 11, 2011
Looking Back
Each of us might feel better if occasionally we looked back at our lives. Hopefully we can learn from that experience. A really smart man told me one time that we never learn from our mistakes. I was shocked at that statement until he explained. He asked me to to think about horseshoes. If you throw a horseshoe ten times you may only get one or even no ringers. However if you keep throwing them eventually you will toss perhaps ten or at least close to that. If we learned by our mistakes we would never be able to get a ringer because we made ten mistakes the first try. But as time goes by and we keep throwing we learn to do it right because we have learned by the things we have done correctly. Does any of this make sense?
Because I am getting old I looked back on my life. And what did I learn? Not much I'm afraid. But one thing stands out for me.
For fifty years or so I designed houses for a living. Altogether I think I designed somewhere around three hundred. Some of them were McMansions and some were small houses that could be built with dynamite boxes and thumbtacks. All were extremely well done. (Please forget I said that!) I never argued with a client. If they told me they wanted a three foot wide closet with a two foot door that is what I put on the drawings. I knew that I was not allowed a preference as to anything in the house. The house for most people is the largest and most important investment they will ever make. It is personal and dear to the ones who will live there. So it was my job to draw away and otherwise keep my mouth shut. When, if ever I designed one for myself, then and only then would I be allowed a taste. When I was asked to include something that I was certain would not work I would suggest that they might reconsider but if they insisted then there it was on the drawings.
So how did I keep my sanity? Well I sometimes think that I didn't. But I did have a speach that I always gave when the drawings were through. I would sit them down and ask them if I could say a few words before they began construction. If they said that it was all right then this is the words I gave them, free of charge:
"Folks, I can give you anything you want on your design. It is easy to put such things on drawings. I can do this even if I disagree with the things you have asked for. That is my job. And when all has been accomplished then you will have the house you wanted. However it will still not be a home. For that to happen you will have to do your part. You will have to add the love. Love for each other. Love for your family and the friends who will visit your house. You will have to work together to build the family who will share what you have built for them. I appreciate your letting me be a part of all of this but be aware that in the future you will look upon this design as yours. Your ideas! Your desires. Your wants. Your needs. So enjoy your house and enjoy the love that it encases."
I have seen the inside of perhaps a dozen of my designed houses after the furniture was in it. The house is a personal thing and the designer at that time is no longer needed or wanted in most cases. They get you ready for this in Architectural school and so it ends up being what we all want. In the end the love wins!
I have had a good life and now am retired. What would I do different? Maybe I would have tried harder to learn to play that stupid banjo.
Write me and share your story, eh? It is all right for you to laugh at mine but I promise not to laugh at yours.
Because I am getting old I looked back on my life. And what did I learn? Not much I'm afraid. But one thing stands out for me.
For fifty years or so I designed houses for a living. Altogether I think I designed somewhere around three hundred. Some of them were McMansions and some were small houses that could be built with dynamite boxes and thumbtacks. All were extremely well done. (Please forget I said that!) I never argued with a client. If they told me they wanted a three foot wide closet with a two foot door that is what I put on the drawings. I knew that I was not allowed a preference as to anything in the house. The house for most people is the largest and most important investment they will ever make. It is personal and dear to the ones who will live there. So it was my job to draw away and otherwise keep my mouth shut. When, if ever I designed one for myself, then and only then would I be allowed a taste. When I was asked to include something that I was certain would not work I would suggest that they might reconsider but if they insisted then there it was on the drawings.
So how did I keep my sanity? Well I sometimes think that I didn't. But I did have a speach that I always gave when the drawings were through. I would sit them down and ask them if I could say a few words before they began construction. If they said that it was all right then this is the words I gave them, free of charge:
"Folks, I can give you anything you want on your design. It is easy to put such things on drawings. I can do this even if I disagree with the things you have asked for. That is my job. And when all has been accomplished then you will have the house you wanted. However it will still not be a home. For that to happen you will have to do your part. You will have to add the love. Love for each other. Love for your family and the friends who will visit your house. You will have to work together to build the family who will share what you have built for them. I appreciate your letting me be a part of all of this but be aware that in the future you will look upon this design as yours. Your ideas! Your desires. Your wants. Your needs. So enjoy your house and enjoy the love that it encases."
I have seen the inside of perhaps a dozen of my designed houses after the furniture was in it. The house is a personal thing and the designer at that time is no longer needed or wanted in most cases. They get you ready for this in Architectural school and so it ends up being what we all want. In the end the love wins!
I have had a good life and now am retired. What would I do different? Maybe I would have tried harder to learn to play that stupid banjo.
Write me and share your story, eh? It is all right for you to laugh at mine but I promise not to laugh at yours.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
The happiness maker
This past Valentine's day Linda gave me two tickets for a show at our Kravis Center. We went to see it last night. And what a show it was!
In the early 1950's my favorite show was a show about some sailors on a small boat who were always in some kind of trouble. I was in the Navy at the time which made it even better for me. I would watch it and laugh and laugh and laugh. Other sailors watched it with me and we all laughed together. Why, you ask? Well it was basically because of a short funny Ensign who was forever and always saying the unexpected and hilariously funny lines. It was a sad day when it was announced that the show would no longer be on.
But the Ensign lived on. He was later to show up in another show where he continued to come up with words and phrases at odd times that seemed to always apply but still made everyone laugh. It was often times when he would say things that were probably not in the script at all at which time the others in the show would laugh in spite of themselves. I read about this fine entertainer and found out that he was active in many activities that helped children. Maybe children of all ages! He is also a family man. I took a good look at why I liked this man so much. He was funny, yes. He was talented., yes. But there was something else. I think that I zoomed in on what his real talent was and still is. He is sincere. In all of the times I have seen him perform I have never heard a harsh word out of his mouth. All of his humor is clean and family style. A natural humor that all of us ought to carry in our hearts.
Last night as I was enjoying the show my thoughts went briefly back to my younger days. I remember telling my family that all I wanted to do with my life was to make other people happy by making them laugh. I sincerely wanted to be a stand up comedian. I even took classes. I would practice what I wanted to say at any occasion. I was really into it all except that I had one small problem. I wasn't funny. So I got a paper route.
So maybe that is why I have such a deep regard for that wonderful entertainer who does so much for all of us while keeping it all clean and worth while.
I sincerely wish that we had more decent entertainers like my friend (who doesn't even know me) Tim Conway!
In the early 1950's my favorite show was a show about some sailors on a small boat who were always in some kind of trouble. I was in the Navy at the time which made it even better for me. I would watch it and laugh and laugh and laugh. Other sailors watched it with me and we all laughed together. Why, you ask? Well it was basically because of a short funny Ensign who was forever and always saying the unexpected and hilariously funny lines. It was a sad day when it was announced that the show would no longer be on.
But the Ensign lived on. He was later to show up in another show where he continued to come up with words and phrases at odd times that seemed to always apply but still made everyone laugh. It was often times when he would say things that were probably not in the script at all at which time the others in the show would laugh in spite of themselves. I read about this fine entertainer and found out that he was active in many activities that helped children. Maybe children of all ages! He is also a family man. I took a good look at why I liked this man so much. He was funny, yes. He was talented., yes. But there was something else. I think that I zoomed in on what his real talent was and still is. He is sincere. In all of the times I have seen him perform I have never heard a harsh word out of his mouth. All of his humor is clean and family style. A natural humor that all of us ought to carry in our hearts.
Last night as I was enjoying the show my thoughts went briefly back to my younger days. I remember telling my family that all I wanted to do with my life was to make other people happy by making them laugh. I sincerely wanted to be a stand up comedian. I even took classes. I would practice what I wanted to say at any occasion. I was really into it all except that I had one small problem. I wasn't funny. So I got a paper route.
So maybe that is why I have such a deep regard for that wonderful entertainer who does so much for all of us while keeping it all clean and worth while.
I sincerely wish that we had more decent entertainers like my friend (who doesn't even know me) Tim Conway!
Thursday, February 10, 2011
The thoughtful one
Every once in a while I hear a story that I think everybody aught to hear. And such is the story told by Oscar. (another made up name) I will tell you a little bit about Oscar but I will change some of it to protect the guilty. And besides if I do it that way I can even lie about things if I choose to do so.
Oscar is almost as old as I am but he is a whole lot smarter. And better, as you will see if you keep reading. He is retired but, as is the case with most of us who have done such a crazy thing, he was bored. So he started to do volunteer work. His favorite is taking food, that has been prepared by other volunteers, to St. George's Kitchen. I went with him a couple of times and cannot believe the good that happens there. Every day they feed many people, most of whom are homeless. When you go there, even if you do just a little bit of work, you leave with a lump in your heart. You feel like you have given a gift to God. And instead of expecting God to say thank you you want to thank Him for the opportunity.
But that is just part of the story.
Oscar decided that he would get a job somewhere to supplement his meager income. So he got one at a large grocery store working as a bag boy. Not too bad for a retired engineer, wouldn't you say? He loves the job because he gets to talk to all the customers while he gives them smiles and wishes of good will. He will tell you that he gets a lot more than he gives. I know I am proud of him.
The policy of the store where he works does not allow tips. He told me that when he helps people with their carts they more often than not offer him a tip. He politely tells them that that is not acceptable at that store. But sometimes they will insist. So does he take it? Yes he does, but not before telling them that he does not plan to keep it for himself, but that he is going to donate it to St George's Kitchen. If they ask he then explains to them just how wonderful St. George's Kitchen is and what they do for needy people. Often they will reach into their wallets and add to the tip because they want to be a part.
Each person who does that leaves with a deep feeling that he or she has made our world a little bit better in which to live. And from where I stand it makes them all a little bit better also. Love your neighbor! In true action. That is why I am proud to call Oscar my friend. Now I have three.
See you soon! Volunteer somewhere, won't you? Let's all work together to make this a better world to live in.
Oscar is almost as old as I am but he is a whole lot smarter. And better, as you will see if you keep reading. He is retired but, as is the case with most of us who have done such a crazy thing, he was bored. So he started to do volunteer work. His favorite is taking food, that has been prepared by other volunteers, to St. George's Kitchen. I went with him a couple of times and cannot believe the good that happens there. Every day they feed many people, most of whom are homeless. When you go there, even if you do just a little bit of work, you leave with a lump in your heart. You feel like you have given a gift to God. And instead of expecting God to say thank you you want to thank Him for the opportunity.
But that is just part of the story.
Oscar decided that he would get a job somewhere to supplement his meager income. So he got one at a large grocery store working as a bag boy. Not too bad for a retired engineer, wouldn't you say? He loves the job because he gets to talk to all the customers while he gives them smiles and wishes of good will. He will tell you that he gets a lot more than he gives. I know I am proud of him.
The policy of the store where he works does not allow tips. He told me that when he helps people with their carts they more often than not offer him a tip. He politely tells them that that is not acceptable at that store. But sometimes they will insist. So does he take it? Yes he does, but not before telling them that he does not plan to keep it for himself, but that he is going to donate it to St George's Kitchen. If they ask he then explains to them just how wonderful St. George's Kitchen is and what they do for needy people. Often they will reach into their wallets and add to the tip because they want to be a part.
Each person who does that leaves with a deep feeling that he or she has made our world a little bit better in which to live. And from where I stand it makes them all a little bit better also. Love your neighbor! In true action. That is why I am proud to call Oscar my friend. Now I have three.
See you soon! Volunteer somewhere, won't you? Let's all work together to make this a better world to live in.
Friday, January 28, 2011
A simple but true story
Last night our 7:14 group met and we started our DO book. Carole was sitting next to me and she wanted to tell us about a happening in her life. She told it as if it were a small thing but I saw it as a great thing. I will share it here and you can make up your own mind if you want to.
She told us that she was sitting on the airplane while coming back from a vacation trip. There was an older lady sitting next to her who obviously was having trouble getting set in her seat. And she dropped something on the floor in front of her. If you have traveled by air lately you are aware that there is not much space between your knees and the seat in front of you. This of course rendered the older lady a problem. How does one get down on the floor in such a small space especially when it is a time in life when it is hard to get around in any case? And so as the lady twisted and turned without much success, Carole offered to pick up whatever she had dropped. And she did. As you can imagine the lady was very thankful and told Carole so.
That is the whole story. What do you think? I think I know what I think. As I listened to that short story I began to wonder. How many people would have simply sat there and watched the older lady struggle and never offer a helping hand? Or worse yet how many people would have become irritated by the struggle. "Why doesn't that old woman sit still? Can't she see I am trying to read?" I sincerely hope not many. But anyway my friend stepped up to the plate. She helped the lady.
I couldn't help wondering what I would have done in that case. Would I have been too busy looking out of the window to even notice that she needed help. Or maybe I would have bowed my head and prayed for God to help her. I have never been in the running for the helper of the year award so I really don't know. But this I do know. Carole showed honest caring and love to a perfect stranger. And I will always have a soft spot in my heart for that kind of thing. It was a real random act of kindness.
I pray each day for an opportunity to do something like that. It may seem small but I think not. It is what I see as real Christianity. Love in action. I want to be a part. And I'll bet that you do, too.
She told us that she was sitting on the airplane while coming back from a vacation trip. There was an older lady sitting next to her who obviously was having trouble getting set in her seat. And she dropped something on the floor in front of her. If you have traveled by air lately you are aware that there is not much space between your knees and the seat in front of you. This of course rendered the older lady a problem. How does one get down on the floor in such a small space especially when it is a time in life when it is hard to get around in any case? And so as the lady twisted and turned without much success, Carole offered to pick up whatever she had dropped. And she did. As you can imagine the lady was very thankful and told Carole so.
That is the whole story. What do you think? I think I know what I think. As I listened to that short story I began to wonder. How many people would have simply sat there and watched the older lady struggle and never offer a helping hand? Or worse yet how many people would have become irritated by the struggle. "Why doesn't that old woman sit still? Can't she see I am trying to read?" I sincerely hope not many. But anyway my friend stepped up to the plate. She helped the lady.
I couldn't help wondering what I would have done in that case. Would I have been too busy looking out of the window to even notice that she needed help. Or maybe I would have bowed my head and prayed for God to help her. I have never been in the running for the helper of the year award so I really don't know. But this I do know. Carole showed honest caring and love to a perfect stranger. And I will always have a soft spot in my heart for that kind of thing. It was a real random act of kindness.
I pray each day for an opportunity to do something like that. It may seem small but I think not. It is what I see as real Christianity. Love in action. I want to be a part. And I'll bet that you do, too.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
The banjo
A friend recently asked me if I really did play the banjo. He had seen my picture on this blog. I wanted to tell him that not only do I play one but I am very good at it. But I could not bring myself to lie like that. So I think that today I will tell the true banjo story and get it off my chest after all these years.
It all started in 1950. I was going to architectural school at the University of Cincinnati and each weekend I would walk down town just to look around. I went by a pawn shop every time I walked and there was a four string tenor banjo hanging there for sale. I asked them how much they wanted for it and was told ten dollars. I thought that was a very reasonable price. Only one problem. I didn't have ten dollars. So I joined three other students and went to Marion, Ohio and there we dug a swimming pool. With shovels and a wheelbarrow. And after three weekends we were paid fifteen dollars apiece. I bought that banjo. Then I took the rest of my hard earned money and took banjo lessons. I had enough money for eight lessons including the sheet music. At the end of that time I could play four songs that I still play today. I also learned that C, F, & G7 covers a multitude of songs if you sing real loud.
When I went into the Navy I took my banjo with me. During boot camp I was threatened a lot of times but I was still able to take it with me during my two year time in the Philippines. When my time was up there they told me that I could go home by air or ship but that I would not be allowed to take the banjo in the airplane. I was homesick so I opted for air travel. I gave my banjo to a friend there who didn't really want it and came on home. I thought that was a good decision because I could still only play four songs and I had noticed that my playing cost me a lot of friends.
Years later Linda gave me another banjo for Christmas. I told you she was a fine woman! I began to run her crazy as I practiced my four songs. Then one day we had some friends over for dinner and I began showing pictures I had taken while I was in the Navy. Two of our visitors were banjo players. When they saw a picture of me while I was playing one of the guys jumped up and almost yelled to the other, "Bill had a Gibson Mastertone!" For those of you who do not know much about banjos (And that would include me) a Gibson Mastertone is worth somewhere in the neighborhood of three thousand dollars. And I gave it away to a guy who didn't want it.
I took lessons with the one Linda gave me and after about a year I could play the same four songs along with C, F, & G7. I played with a banjo band here and they let me play as long as I didn't play very loud. So you see, that is my banjo story. I wanted to play a banjo more than I can explain but the biggest lesson I learned was that one has to have talent to play those things no matter how hard one is willing to practice. And so it is a pretty good bet that you will never hear me play. That's because I love you and don't wish to make you unhappy.
Pray for me, won't you?
It all started in 1950. I was going to architectural school at the University of Cincinnati and each weekend I would walk down town just to look around. I went by a pawn shop every time I walked and there was a four string tenor banjo hanging there for sale. I asked them how much they wanted for it and was told ten dollars. I thought that was a very reasonable price. Only one problem. I didn't have ten dollars. So I joined three other students and went to Marion, Ohio and there we dug a swimming pool. With shovels and a wheelbarrow. And after three weekends we were paid fifteen dollars apiece. I bought that banjo. Then I took the rest of my hard earned money and took banjo lessons. I had enough money for eight lessons including the sheet music. At the end of that time I could play four songs that I still play today. I also learned that C, F, & G7 covers a multitude of songs if you sing real loud.
When I went into the Navy I took my banjo with me. During boot camp I was threatened a lot of times but I was still able to take it with me during my two year time in the Philippines. When my time was up there they told me that I could go home by air or ship but that I would not be allowed to take the banjo in the airplane. I was homesick so I opted for air travel. I gave my banjo to a friend there who didn't really want it and came on home. I thought that was a good decision because I could still only play four songs and I had noticed that my playing cost me a lot of friends.
Years later Linda gave me another banjo for Christmas. I told you she was a fine woman! I began to run her crazy as I practiced my four songs. Then one day we had some friends over for dinner and I began showing pictures I had taken while I was in the Navy. Two of our visitors were banjo players. When they saw a picture of me while I was playing one of the guys jumped up and almost yelled to the other, "Bill had a Gibson Mastertone!" For those of you who do not know much about banjos (And that would include me) a Gibson Mastertone is worth somewhere in the neighborhood of three thousand dollars. And I gave it away to a guy who didn't want it.
I took lessons with the one Linda gave me and after about a year I could play the same four songs along with C, F, & G7. I played with a banjo band here and they let me play as long as I didn't play very loud. So you see, that is my banjo story. I wanted to play a banjo more than I can explain but the biggest lesson I learned was that one has to have talent to play those things no matter how hard one is willing to practice. And so it is a pretty good bet that you will never hear me play. That's because I love you and don't wish to make you unhappy.
Pray for me, won't you?
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