I was privileged to spend a portion of Father’s Day weekend in Chicago with my two
sons, Jeremy and Justin and their families. It was so much fun being with the boys since they live in different cities and I don’t see them often. But what makes it special is that we can pick up as if no time has passed as we share some of the old times as well as new. On the return trip I thought about how much I enjoyed being with my boys. Seems like only yesterday they as well as their sister, Jamie were little people waiting to greet me when I got home from work. My, how it seems like the time just went too fast. I truly miss those days.
I imagine some of these feelings come from the lack of a father in my own life. As a young child I would question why didn’t I have a dad, and if I did have one where was he? It wasn’t until being nearly grown that I learned the truth; Howard (that was his name) was only interested in having relations with my mom, but not a relationship, and certainly not with a child either. A person would see that as a sad scenario, but by then it really didn’t bother me. Perhaps it’s best described as what an individual would say about not having an arm or other regular part of the body; it would be nice to have but since you never had an arm it doesn’t bother you as much and you learn to make the best without. So, if dear old dad didn’t want to be there for me that was fine, I could get along very well without him. At least that’s how I felt up until Dec. 31, 1979, the birth date of our daughter followed in later years by her brothers. Not having a male role model to emulate was now pressing on me as I worried about making mistakes in my new role as dad.
Thankfully, the insight of my Lady pointed me to the fact that I did have a role model, a Father who was with me always and whether I realized it or not was preparing me for the day little ones would look to me for guidance and love. From my Heavenly Father I learned I needed to be a teacher (Proverbs 22:6), plant in them the important things of life (2Cor. 3:2-3), show compassion (Psalm 103:13), pray for my children like David did (1 Chronicles 29:19) and never give up on them, just like the father of the prodigal son didn’t (Luke 15:20-24).
Yes, I didn’t have an earthly father to show me the ropes, but I have to be thankful for him giving me life, that I may learn from my Heavenly Father. “Hey Howie, whether you know it not, ya did good; you ought to see your awesome grand and great grandkids!!”
So, did I do things right? Yes. Did I make mistakes? You betcha!! Would I want to do things over? And take a chance of missing the good that came out of the bad? No way!
Without a doubt being a father isn’t easy, but is anything that’s worthwhile easy? Think about what God has to put up with as Dad to all of us; Whoa! But isn’t it great to know that He loves each of us as if we’re His one and only, and that love doesn’t end when we screw up? I mean how cool is that?!!
I’m not perfect and I don’t think they’d mind me saying neither are my kids. But I have a good example to pass on to them, a Father who leads me as I “Travel the Rock Road.” As He will them.
“Let me tell you a secret about a father’s love,
A secret that my daddy said was just between us.
He said, ‘Daddies don’t just love their children every now and then.
It’s a love without end, amen, it’s a love without end, amen.’”
See ya next time.
that time I lived with my mentor and favorite Great Aunt Pearl and her husband Price. We had an upstairs apartment in Prestonsburg, right above the upholstery shop where she worked. For some of my younger readers who don’t understand this type of business it was a place where someone would bring in an old couch or chair that was well worn. Some folks didn’t want to invest in new furniture so they would have their old piece redone instead. They would talk to my Pearly Mae, decide on what fabric they wanted, and then I would watch the little lady from West Virginia work her magic. First she would take a razor knife or sharp industrial scissors to strip it down; all that would be left was the wooden frame, and springs. She would then replace any springs that were wore out, sew new cushion covers and replace all the stuffing. She would sew new material on the armrests and sides. That was a slow process as she made every stich with a large needle that was rounded like a U. Then taking a small gauge rope she’d sew material around it and fasten it to the chair or sofa. It was fascinating to a young boy’s mind to see an old, wore down piece of furniture stripped down to its bare frame, and slowly but meticulously become a beautiful piece anyone would be proud to have in their home. Folks would return and look in astonishment, hardly believing it was the same piece they had brought her.
learning experience and I loved being around the kids. They were great to work with. A few of the parents? Well, that could be an experience also; a trying one at that. Seems there were some that took what we were doing too seriously with a win at all cost attitude. Our league was set upon two principles; fun and fundamentals. Teach these young players the basics of the game; instill in them an understanding of what their job was on the field. And for goodness sakes, make it fun! If a kid isn’t enjoying the learning process, or if they’re spending more time watching from the sidelines than playing, you can pretty well bet they won’t stay with the game. So, we expected our coaches to take a personal involvement with the players, get to know the kids on the team, plan a fun activity with them, and mostly, make sure everyone gets to play at least half a game. If I might brag a bit, it was that philosophy that made us one of the biggest and most popular leagues of its kind in the state.
the start of the 20th century about a fictitious town and the residents that lived there. It chronicles the lives of two youngsters, George Gibb and Emily Webb. In the 1st act we see them as children living next door to each other. In the 2nd act, they are young adults who fall in love and marry. Tragically, in the 3rd act, young Emily dies during childbirth. There’s much more to the story but I don’t want to give it away in case you get the chance to see it someday. Actually, this was the 2nd time I had seen this performance.
hometown of Fremont, Ohio to do a little shopping for necessities before returning to the road. While in the store I noticed a familiar face. She was the mother of a classmate from school that I thought highly of. A woman from England that had moved to America with her husband and daughter years prior to start a new life. My memory went back to a time I stopped by their house to visit the daughter, but she wasn’t home. Still this grand lady insisted I come in for minute to sit and talk. Most likely I did not make good conversation, but that didn’t matter. I found joy in her company, listening to her elegant British accent as she spoke on a number of topics and all the while wearing a smile that beamed from her face constantly. I thought of walking up to her to say hello, but the years had passed and I had changed quite a bit since we last met and I was sure she wouldn’t know who I was so I chose to stay with my band members and leave well enough alone. A couple of aisles later I saw her again and to my amazement she did remember me. With the same charm and the beaming smile she took time to make conversation not only to me but with the other guys with me. We must have been quite a sight, 6 long haired guys badly in need of showers making chat with this graceful Lady who treated us like old family or friends. As she spoke directly to all of us in her prim and proper manner, we must have looked like a group of overgrown schoolkids smiling back as we hung on her every word. When our time ended, she urged that I stop by the next time I was in town; an invitation she extended to the others also.
more than ready to move on. I now concentrated on the future which included getting married that November and possibly continuing my education at some college. I was back at my high school picking up material I would need when applying to colleges. Sitting in the lobby I noticed someone else there; a person I knew better from his reputation than I did during our school days.
to make use of the men’s room. When I entered, I almost tripped over a mobile cart that was backed halfway into a stall. This elderly gentleman had driven it in and then getting as close he could used it support himself as he stood to use the facility. I smiled and thought, well that’s rather clever; he must be able to maneuver that bad boy pretty well to pull off this stunt. When I got ready to leave, I noticed the man was having difficulty getting turned around and back on the cart. Two others who were at the sinks noticed also. One smiled while the other shook his head and walked out. Admittedly, I confess I started out the door also when the thought flooded my mind, “Miller, what are you doing?! He’s probably 20 years your senior, but that could be you some day. Get over there and help!” This guy was wedged in there so tight, and I could tell his legs did not work well, he couldn’t get turned around to get reseated. I was at a loss what to do. I could go get my reciprocating saw and cut the wall of stall down but I didn’t think the store would look upon that too kindly. Another man about my age came in and saw the dilemma so he offered to help. Between us we were able to get the cart out far enough that one of us could grab him and help him back on. That was a task in itself seeing the brother could hardly move or bend his knees. Several minutes passed, but we finally got him back on. Good! Except, he might have gotten that supermarket dune buggy in there but didn’t have enough turning radius to get it out. So, with the help of my comrade in toilet rescue, we physically manhandled the cart and rider around three tight corners until he had a clear path and was able to shoot out the door where his concerned wife was waiting. Sheesh! One thing was for sure my BP meds got a workout. Who needs the Y, just hire yourself out for emergency bathroom extractions! My new friend in this endeavor was covered with as much sweat as I had so we retreated back into the restroom to clean up a bit. When I caught my breath and was heading out of the store a new thought came. “What are you, nuts! Why didn’t you go get some of the store personnel to do this? Afterall they’re younger and it’s their job anyway.” I like to think I’m the same man I was years back, but age and medical issues have slowed me down. Oh well, it’s over and I didn’t flatline so no big deal.
with this social media outlet, but it has given me opportunity to reconnect with friends and family, some I haven’t seen or heard from in years. I love to see where they’re at now, what they’ve done, how many children and grandchildren they have. I also enjoy new friends I have made and how we can interact as if we known each other for years. But I suppose what I love to the most is this gives me an avenue to tell about my Lord and Savior. As I say I’m not a religion man, but one of faith. And through that faith I have found something I believe is so wonderful, so awesome, that I just want to share it with others.
Republic. He wasn’t what many would consider to be a typical missionary, leading church services and such to the people there. He was a mechanic and he came to be a help to others there that were working to provide better lives for villagers, such as digging wells. He worked tirelessly to keep trucks and equipment running with the aid of several men native to the region. My friend told me many fascinating stories from his years in the C.A.R., but one particular account has stuck with me and made a conviction in my heart since.

