After the storm I sit
With great peace and calm,
Knowing all is well.
In my heart there is a song
One of thanksgiving
In what I’ve known, all along.
God’s hand is still there
My heart is at peace and strong
In the storms of life
That come our way
Surrendering our will to God
Is the way, day by day.
Ahhhh! I find myself sitting in my living room on the couch for the first time in almost a week with a clear mind. So much has happened in this past week.
A week ago an impending hurricane had everyone in my area on heightened alert for the possibilities. Sadly some of the most horrendous possibilities came true for quite a
few of them. Every possibility from a few inches of water in the house to total and complete loss of homes and businesses has come to pass. I feel so bad for them. Me, inside this almost 68 year old body screams to help, but I can barely get into my own yard and work. I try, but more than 30 minutes at some things has me dizzy, disoriented and stumbling and have to come inside to recover. Heat exhaustion can be a bad thing. My blood pressure dropped to 94/66. Fluids, fluids and more fluids. To some that reading would be their ideal or even normal readings, but to me? No. Enough of that. I take care of myself and hope for everyone else to find the strong young ones to help them.
I went out yesterday to run some errands for stuff we need. It’s not much. While out I saw a lady in a dually pull out in front of another lady in a car, which ran the car lady off the road. Fortunately no contact was made and there was no ditch to be pulled out of. The car lady was quite shaken up, but I stayed by till her husband got turned around to come back. He was just a bit in front of her. The truck lady was very apologetic, but still she made a left turn out of a parking lot at an exit that clearly had a right turn only configuration. Her excuse was that she was in a hurry. I don’t think hurrying was a necessity over possibly hurting someone.
The biggest complaint I’m hearing is Duke Energy is hardly to be found anywhere in the 
town of Richlands. Jones-Onslow EMC has power back up in many areas and is highly visible to the public around here. Not Duke Energy, though and they have told some customers it could be several day longer than we, who already have power a couple of days ago. It’s not for the lack of lineman in the area. I’ve even seen Tideland guys in the town hooking up huge power generators to gas stations so they can operate their pumps. I know these guys come from areas hit at least as hard as us.
The church that used to be Praise Tabernacle where I attended for some 30 years is in a total shambles. Shingles are gone and the inside of the building still had water standing in the floors. Ceiling tiles either have fallen out from the weight of water or bulging near to falling out. Insulation covers the floors Everything is going to need to be removed and replaced. This condition will create mold and mildew without treatment. I estimate at least $150k in damages. This instance is not isolated. There are many homes and businesses in the same shape or worse.
I lived through many hurricanes such as Bertha, Fran, Isabel, Dennis, Floyd, Bonnie, Irene, Matthew and Sandy, just to mention a few. Florence, that just visited us, has been the most damaging storm of them all. Up till now Fran held that distinction. Even so, I still would have stayed here in my own home. A brick dwelling with a solid roof. My only concern was a pine tree that is now chained off to another pine with the chain behind another tree on the way around so that if it decides to finish falling the the chain will make it fall away from the house. I am waiting on a tree service to come cut it down.
My front yard is cleaned up and my roof is cleaned of all debris, so from the road everything looks normal. Just don’t meander into my backyard. From back there to the woods looks like a disaster site. . . which it is.
Something that is big to me is that the inside of the house is back to normal. I’ve washed the bed sheets and anything else that has been slept or sat on like the couch cover, etc. All the wet clothes have been washed and dried. Towels, wash clothes, floor mats, you name it. It’s cleaned. I’ve swept the entire house and all the bit of leaves and other debris are up and gone. The house is now where it was a week ago. Now when I go outside I can comfortably come inside to a clean house and sit down after a shower and relax.
When I shopped yesterday I saw collards that looked really good, so I got a small amount (about 3 pounds). I stemmed, seasoned and cooked them this morning. For summer collards, they are pretty tasty. Dinner tonight will be that and shake n baked boneless pork chops. My wife is at work and I dare not let her come home without dinner ready. She deserves that luxury. God gave me a wonderful woman. She’s beautiful to me. The person she is cannot be matched.
During this storm time she’s read a book called the Turquoise Table. I listened to her talk about it and came to realize it’s about a woman who truly wanted to know her neighbors and a picnic table the color of turquoise was put in her front yard and people began to congregate over time at this table. Libby has always loved people and more than that she loves to cook. She has expressed to me the desire to start a project to have all of our neighbors to our home for dinner. Not all at once, but a couple or two, just to get to know them. I saw in the spirit realm what her thoughts would likely develop into. If she follows through with this, I’m in agreement with her. I also see this becoming a ministry of hospitality for us. We would become a place where people can come and feel welcome and share their hearts and perhaps at some point the entire neighborhood can gather. I told her she might want to look at the bigger picture. This is how a lot of churches start, but that isn’t something we are looking at for now.
So, hurricanes, can spawn more than wind and rain. They can also allow the mind to stop a moment and observe the nature and calling of God. People lost their homes and possessions, but let’s concentrate on Him. Loss can sometimes mean a fresh beginning. I never look at anything with negative circumstances as anything more than a challenge of something to overcome. I cannot express that enough. God’s hand is shown when diversity comes. And it’s not a closed fist. It’s an open hand. Look for it. It’s there. Waiting for you.
summer has been awfully quiet till now and suddenly we’re looking at a storm that can and likely will alter the lives of many people.Oh how I looked forward to retirement. That was a year and a half ago. What’s happened since?
Retirement got my home projects completed with the allotted amount of money I had
left. Now that sits dormant till I catch back up. There’s still crown molding to get and put up. Still, doors to paint. Really, I would like to replace them. There’s always something to do if you’re a homeowner.
But here’s the kicker. I retired from Civil Service. The work-a-day world was over, but the need to work at something is still there. I looked around and found most of the guys who retired in around the same time as I did are back to work somewhere. The drive from years of getting up and going to a job are so stamped on our minds. I think we find ourselves empty handed and wanting for something to do.
My wife still is in the work force for a bit longer. I wish she could retire as well. Well, you know where I’m going with this anyway. She’s like me. Has to have something going on all the time. Not to say either of us can’t find a season of some program and flop down occasionally and binge watch all of it. But we do want something to do.
So what happened? I started driving cars as a dealer trade driver for multiple dealerships under a contract outfit. But I found the guy in charge cherry picked his drivers and I might get a call once or twice a month. I can’t sit around waiting for him to decide he hasn’t got enough drivers so he calls me kind of thing. I found one dealership that I went to work for and quit the former. They call me about the same amount, but pay better and I don’t have to pay for the gas in their vehicles and wait a month for reimbursement.
Libby and I went to the ETTP class that certifies people to be substitute teachers. I didn’t get hired for that, but I was taking the school bus driver’s class at about the same time and that I did get. I became a substitute bus driver, but the day I walked in I was handed two routes and drove them the rest of the year like a regular driver. This coming year I’ve been picked up as a regular driver and will be assigned a couple of routes most likely and all I can hope is that I get back at least one of the two I had last year if not both.
I’m getting to something here. I’m sneaking in the leadings and callings of God on you. People are not meant to retire. I’ve never been able to understand a called of God minister pop up one day and say they are retiring. Being called of God to the ministry is like marriage. Do you for one instant think of retiring from marriage? I hope not. Some of us have our circumstances in life that prevent us from a life-long marriage to one person, but if we are married and intent to make it a life-long commitment there is no retiring.
So what I have here is what God has led me to do. I was given an open door to driving a school bus. Not only did I get a lesson in reshaping myself to enjoy children and young people, but I get to pour into them what God has given me. They are my congregation. They are my responsibility. I take this seriously.
Driving cars for a dealership is rewarding and the person who I deal with the most is a preacher and a gospel singer. I think there’s a reason for our connection there as well.
Connection with a ministry that serves the homeless, the poor and destitute has given me an outlet to renew my skills with fixing bicycles. I’m sure most of us will realize how being able to ride a bike expanded our territory when we got our first one. Having been a bike shop manager for several years I met a few people of which one rode from Jacksonville, NC to the California coast on his bicycle he bought in our shop. Another person who had gotten out of the Marine Corp came in one morning with a back pack and bought a touring bicycle. He said he had a few months before he wanted to get back into the routines of life, so he was riding his new bicycle home. I asked where did he live. He said Oregon. So, just something so simple as a bicycle opens up a whole new world to some people. It just depends on how far do you want to take it?
The same goes with the Bible. Yesterday I wrote about my old Bible. I see some people receive a new Bible with their name on it and some little inscription inside congratulating them on some accomplishment. I wonder what they do with that Bible. Do they devour that new book or do they set in on a desk in their room to gather dust?
Okay. So I said all the above to say this. We may retire from a job, but we don’t retire from life. Life goes on and we are to endeavor to continue to increase our borders. I still have a lot to do and a lot to learn. Everyone who reads this should readily be aware of something they intend to or want to do. If you’ve left it to gather dust, get it out and blow it off and clean it up, whatever it is. You’ve got work to do.
I’m told the best way to spot a counterfeit dollar bill is to study the real one. If anything else doesn’t add up you will readily spot it. That’s a true test of the false.
I knew things about the spirit realm even as a young person of at least eleven years old. By thirteen I knew I was called by the Spirit of God to a ministry of some sort. It took three more years of bending the back of a pew to walk forward to give a public admission of faith. By seventeen until twenty seven, I walked in my own steps.
I saw things in church that didn’t match up with what I believed. Men who eventually made confessions of their sins and suffered from them. Mostly because they got caught in it. I developed a sense of piety in not doing the crazy stuff I saw, but eventually God let me suffer circumstances that destroyed my piety and humbled me totally to not condemn anyone else. I was to look into my own heart and see where I stood before picking up any stones to throw.
In my mid-twenties I suffered some degree of depression, although at the time I didn’t know what it was. I chronicled it all in spiral bound notebooks. I have no idea where they are now. I don’t know as they would be of any positive influence now. But through that God got my attention and in prayer one day I told God I wanted to make my life totally aimed at pursuing Him in faith, but I didn’t really want to do it in a church setting that wasn’t moving with Him. He took me up on it, but He didn’t tell me He would not change those circumstances I would encounter. However, He would be there to direct me through them. That made the difference over all those years.
In 1978, at the age of 27 in March, I asked God to show me something and if it was indeed real, I wanted it. Being a Baptist all my life was putting me on the edge of a whole new realm of spiritual awareness. My then wife, was from a Pentecostal background. Therefore, if I was going to dive in I wanted to know about this experience.
Mind you, a lot of denominations use this as a badge of honor to show the world who they are, but I feel better not making an issue of it other than an experience in my Christian growth. Pentecost was and is a real event. And I found that in spite of the folks that say it isn’t for today, that it is still for today. On the early morning of March 13th 1978 as I knelt down before my couch I looked up and started to pray, but the words came out in a language that wasn’t my native tongue. It energized me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. I’ve never been the same. There is a lot of back-story to this event in my life, but not to speak of at this time.
I could even go out and look at the clouds in the sky and they seemed to move through the air differently. Everything seemed different. I could read or pray about something and God would speak to me. Then on Sunday the minister would preach on that very subject. It’s been that way for years. This small writing can’t contain all the feelings I have for this writing, so just bear with me.
The one story I want to convey here is dealing with my questions to God about how to study. He specifically directed me to read and study Ephesians and Galatians first. Through a minister on TV He spoke to me about getting a Thompson Chain Reference
Bible and a Strong’s Exhaustive Concordance. So I set my eye towards getting them. But I didn’t expect how I would get the Bible. In August I was in the mid-week service at Faith Assembly of God in Wilmington when as the end as the benediction was being prayed I felt a tap on my shoulder. When the amen was said I turned to look at a friend of mine by the name of Chuck Spooner. He leaned forward and handed me a Bible. He said God spoke to him to give it to me. I looked at it and saw that it was a Thompson Chain Reference IV edition. Chuck didn’t know this was what God had told me I should have. There it was. Handed to me. I hugged Chuck, thanked him for it and took that treasure I’d been given home with me and devoured it over the coming years. There are notes everywhere in it as you see in the picture of it now.
A short back-story to that is I was awakened one day from sleep when I was working graveyard shift by my phone ringing. It was Chuck. There was so much excitement in his voice as he began to tell me that in God telling him to give me his Bible it opened up a blessing on him by someone giving him a new Thompson Chain Reference large print red-lettered edition, which he really needed since he had very bad vision. We rejoiced in this and he went on about his business and I went back to sleep knowing all was well.
As time went on I shared things I found in the Bible and got some weird looks. People would ask me where I found this or that and I would point it out to them. I took a different approach in study. I learned how to dig out the original words of scripture and came up with really interesting views. I thought I was crazy. Then I came across this man named Kelley Varner.
Believe me when I say he made me mad, I’m talking angry. His teachings were absolutely mind boggling to me. For literally months I’d take things I heard him say and tried my best to prove him wrong. Eventually the more I studied on my own the more the Word convinced me with the leading of the Spirit that I needed to take a different course in understanding. This understanding got me into trouble with main-stream Christians, because once I’m convinced of something I’m going to share it. I was accused of being in a cult. Even to the point some questioned me if my church was handling snakes and stuff. Never in my life did I see such things in my thirty years there as we were accused of.
The thing that tied me to this paradigm shift in thinking was that before I found the teachings of Kelley Varner, I found books in the Christian book store that fringed on the same doctrines that made me equally upset. Kelley Varner wasn’t the only person out there teaching something that was wholly scriptural, yet different from what I grew up with.
That dollar bill was not fake. I studied the real scriptures through the eyes that the Holy Spirit gave me and time and time again, I had to rearrange my thinking. Growing can be painful even if it is rewarding in the end. Recognizing and adhering to new revelation of scripture can present itself to be a slow process. But then again, you have to know a slow rain absorbs better than a sudden downpour.
My forty one year old Bible still serves me well. Just add water (Spirit).
My wife, Libby, and I went to a concert last Thursday evening. This song has stuck in my heart. The song Blessed Assurance chorus is tucked neatly away with it.
I hope what I share here can be understood. I may wander a bit.
First I must give a little foundation. My fifties were dark years, yet more of a mixed bag of emotions as I sorted through the rights and wrongs of it all. I was medicated with Zoloft. I did not like it.
Zoloft to many of you, who read this or know what this medication is for, will understand. The side effects for me created a formidable obstacle to overcome. The most debilitating side effect creates a flat-line emotional state. Before, I could sit and cry over simple touching moments or laugh at the antics of anyone who related funny events or told jokes. After the medication took effect emotions were no more. I didn’t cry. I seldom laughed like I use to. Something had to really break through the wall created by the medication. I now have adjusted down to a half dose a day of the smallest whole dosage available in the generic Sertraline. But still, I remain in a near emotionless state. One other side effect I was told by a pharmacy tech is a fuzzy mind. I kind of understand that as well. I tend to disconnect easily from what ever I was engaged in. It is frustrating not only to me, but whoever I was connected with at that moment. I’m not being rude. It just happens.
You may want to know how do I deal with this. I do it by knowledge of what I know. I have found that going to church for instance will excite people’s emotions to the point that this is where they “feel” God. I don’t feel God that way. I do have something that triggers inside letting me know that God is present, but it may well and for the most part not be affecting my emotions.
Two things have happened in the last week that gives example of how God does do things. At the concert last Thursday evening the song attached above began and the tempo was enough to get my attention, but when it hit the Blessed Assurance chorus only two or three words into it tears welled up in my eyes. Why? Because God entered into it and I heard my mom singing it when I was a young man in church. I could see her standing on the platform between the choir section and the piano. “This Is My Story” I could hear her sing. Why did I cry? Because that was my mom’s song. Praising her Savior all the day long. That’s what she’s doing in my heart.
Then, Sunday morning as music service was coming to an end I felt God begin to move among the people of the congregation. The person who was to do the segue to another part of the service stood up, but I began to ask God to not let him stop the flow and let God minister to the people one on one. I could sense Him touching certain ones without my even looking around. It didn’t take emotion to tell me what was going on. Fortunately the person in charge let God flow as I feel he, too, knew what was happening. This is really what church is all about. Preachers preach and God speaks through them, but there are more personal moments like the brooding nature of the Spirit as He moved person to person throughout the congregation.
So. I can experience God without emotion, but if emotion is exhibited it’s comes from a much deeper level where God touched me like with hearing my mom sing that song.
As I’ve gotten older I have found more solace in knowing my salvation is secure in God. I can say when my memorial service is held there will be one song that could actually be played over and over and over. It doesn’t take emotion to know that.
I’ve been out in the garage more today than usual. I’d committed myself to helping mow the church lawn on Friday’s, but I also do volunteer work for Emerge Ministries by repairing donated bikes for the homeless or poor for kids to have something to give them joy. I also have a few that adults may even use for their git-around (sic).
Finishing up on the third bike was my goal today and it got done. I now have a 26″, a 20″
and two 16″ bicycles ready for someone to give them some degree of fun or ability to travel.
I don’t feel anything I have to say is profound. Just a simple thought. What do we do to improve life for someone else?
You will find that life will have its rewards for you in the principle of sowing and reaping. The more you give of yourself the more you will find coming back to you. It doesn’t have to be monetary. Satisfaction of accomplishment for one’s self has given me the impetus to move forward even further. Impetus. Now that’s a big word. It simply means stimulation or encouragement resulting in increased activity. The key to this comes from increased activity as it says.
Increased activity. Now at my age that hardly seems something that I wasn’t looking for when I retired, but I find it necessary. Not for the sake of just simply doing something, but to help others.
Driving a bus, for one thing, was not on my radar a little over a year ago. My wife and I had completed the ETTP class for substitute teaching and received our certificates. Then came a call to come to the class to obtain my CDL-B for driving a bus. I’m open enough to accept it and went. On the day of our exam for the learner’s permit to drive I also had an interview for substitute teacher. I went dressed very business like after I completed the exam for the permit. I got the permit and a rejection letter from the sub-teaching position.
Later on I went to the class for the road work for the CDL-B and passed. After pulling together all the paperwork, physical and drug testing I was in possession of a CDL-B and a job. You see, J.T. Cardwell once told me in my early years of being a Christian to go for the open door. If it closes, it wasn’t meant to be, but if it r
emained open, walk through it. The day I walked into the Richlands District Transportation office I was put on a bus with a woman who was leaving in a few days. She drove that morning. I drove that afternoon and next morning and then she cut me loose and I drove from Thanksgiving until the end of the school year on the two routes she left me with.
I’ll admit I was not a big fan of anyone of school age. But there I was with a group of elementary and middle school kids. The first couple of months they tried me and I was sure I would have a heart attack.
But something clicked the third month and I found myself liking what I was doing and God gave me a plan of discipline that is a bit different than the ones I watched other drivers employ. I talked to my kids. Got to know them. Perhaps other drivers did or do the same, but I was a stranger to this realm. Now I see why God closed the door to the sub-teaching position. I needed this instead. The change in me reflected in several of the kids as some told me I was the best bus driver they’d ever had. One went so far as to tell me I was like a dad to him. My response was that I was perhaps more like a grand dad, but he said no, a dad.
I still have this on me as I drove some for the Summer Reading program where I had one little girl tell me yesterday I was the best bus driver she’d ever had. It was the last day before a short break until I have to be available next month for the start of the new school year. What I have learned is these children and young people received from me. I gave them from my spirit. Doing this will give them more life than any cut and dry discipline. Imparting life to another will spark life in them. In turn it will come back to me as life.
And life more abundantly. . .
The thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy: I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.
Something has triggered my thoughts again today. So here goes.
I’m going to go back a few years to start. I was talking with my brother Mike one evening and I thought during that conversation that it would be a good time to tell him I had met someone with whom I found a strong connection with. When he asked who she was the first words out of his mouth was that she was a really great person, but she was a bit quirky. Quirky, you say. . . Hummm.
All I knew at the time was this woman was changing my life forever and a day. She is intelligent, crafty (in the crafts and knickknacks sort of way), loving (unconditionally), caring to a fault and the list goes on. We are inseparable.
The thing with meeting this late in life means we have developed certain things that we do that are ingrained in us. With us, I think it’s a case of OCD (CDO, since I have to have the letters in order). We do the same functions, but we go entirely different directions from each other coming to the same results. You would think that is great. Right? No. Not when she’s watching me or I’m watching her do whatever it is that is being done.
Let me run on up to today to what triggered this post. I got into the shower and turned around to find what’s in this 
picture sitting on the shelf in the shower. At first I went into the “what the heck is that?” mode. It looked like a mouse. But what would a mouse be doing in my shower? Upon closer observation I found it to be something Libby had done. You see, I think it comes from being one generation away from the Depression era of our parents and grandparents that still invades our generation’s way of thinking. What she had done was taken two or three small pieces of soap she had left over and stuffed them in a small piece of nylon hose. This way she can get the most of the leftover soap bars. That my friend is smart thinking of days gone by.
I can’t get away without saying I have my quirks, too. After years of refinement in 
preparation for work the next day, I cannot go to bed without setting up for breakfast the next morning. There’s one thing I can’t stand. I don’t like disorganization when there’s still the fog of sleep in my head, so I put together the coffee and water in the coffee maker the night before, but then I have to abide by Libby’s rule. Don’t set the timer so it doesn’t bother her listening to the machine gurgling before we get up. Why set up the timer for after we get up. The water I put in the maker has to be hot water. Somehow the coffee doesn’t taste just right if I put cold water in the maker the night before by her thinking. Then I lay out the small frying pan, spatula and small bowl on the stove. When we get up I scramble two eggs with cheese and bacon bits for Libby and then on the other counter is my paper towel with a butter knife for toast. Once her breakfast is done I move the toast over to beside the stove and cook one or two eggs with cheese with bacon bit (real bacon, btw) for myself.
But before this process starts the coffee is brewing and my cup is filled to cool while I’m cooking. By this time Libby is coming into the kitchen and her breakfast is ready. All this time the local news is on so we can catch what the weather is like outside. If we deviate from this course, I might as well go back to bed.
Now to a place back in time. My first encounter with her ways was when I had cooked collards, more than likely. I went to get my hot pepper vinegar in the pantry and it wasn’t there. Libby had moved it, because according to her (and my Aunt Doris as well) it wasn’t were it was supposed to be. She moved the garbage bags twice on me and the second time I spent a good half hour looking for them. These are not the only things she moved, because they were not were she supposed they should be. Okay. I’m good with it, but when she’s not there to inform me I spent a good bit of time looking for stuff.
I wasn’t angry, just lost, but I do stuff that she goes behind me and “fixes”. The dishwasher is never loaded right. Now, I just put stuff in there and let her arrange it. It’s a done deal. No issues. Sometimes I just wash up what little bit that is in the sink and leave the dishwasher out of the equation.
I wash clothes, too. Doesn’t that make most women cringe? Whites and colors together kind of stuff. Delicates with jeans? No. I do wash white separate and delicates with delicates. I don’t wash towels with some things, but socks are okay with my underwear, I suppose. Libby told me one time not to wash anything. She’d do it, but I’d sneak a load in here and there. I do wash the bed sheets once a week at least. Primarily because she hates making a bed. I don’t mind.
Aside from quirkiness, this still may fall into that category. I don’t know. This gets scary some times. She can be miles away and know what I’m thinking. She’ll want something for dinner and when she gets home from work that’s what I prepared. We can go to a restaurant and without consultation order the same exact thing. This kind of thinking isn’t narrowed to just food. She will look at me sometimes and say “Tell me what I’m thinking”. I go “Oh no. Really?” I’m not going to explain that one.
For those of you who know my background through time, you’ll remember me for that
period which we were present together in. My teens were my peers with which I went to school with from grade 1 through 12. We started together, we finished together. We created a lot of memories together. Those years set the tone for how I viewed life.
In my twenties I was in construction, the military and back to construction, insurance sales and then DuPont spinning in Leland, NC. There was a whole new crowd. Mostly those with whom I worked with. There were few outside of that since swing shift didn’t present a normal life outside of work. I had quite a few friends at work, but when I went home I had little time to do much else.
Once I became a solid Christian in my late twenties, a whole new cadre of friends came about. From my Baptist upbringing to the tongue-talking crowd I found life really can change for me. I am writing this as a microcosm of what I could say, but the thread of music plays throughout my entire life and the types of music changed with me as well.
I played drums with my friend, Dwight, who I grew up with, and my brother Danny. We had a few antics. The Lemon Tree Inn a couple of times. . .and that’s all I got to say about that. Top forty and beach music was what we liked. I was always listening to music. All types of music. Country, Pop, Rock, R&B, Blues, Motown, Jazz. You name it I probably have it in my collection. I have nearly sixteen thousand songs on my computer.
I got waylaid on drumming for a few years, but when I started going to church in Richlands I learned the Pentecostal hoedown. If you’re Pentecostal, you’ll understand what I’m saying. From that I progressed over the next 25 years until God told me to move out of the way for new talent with His callings. During all that time I played with many different musicians. There were a lot of good musicians and some just learning that turned into pretty good musicians. There were not many of less talent. The highlight of music was to play with Wayne Cochran. He passed away in the fall of 2017. He was known for CC Ryder fame and became a pastor in Miami. I’ve also been in the heart of Blue Grass talent in Spartanburg, SC in the 80’s. I do remember Sharon White was there. She is the wife of Ricky Scaggs.
Only one kid who thought he was going to be a drummer, but I ended up buying his set of Ludwigs when he finally gave it up for lack of desire and rhythm.
I laid it all down till the last couple of years when I find myself wanting to try learning the saxophone. Granted I’ve been slack at it, I still have not lost the desire to learn. I will push on more so at some point.
What started this writing was from someone posting on Facebook a song by the Eagles. It’s called Wasted Time – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c0SvsinEUfY
It brought back many of the songs I remember WHEN they became hits. If you came from my time, stop a moment and let that sink in. The Beatles first song of five on Ed Sullivan was All of My Loving. I was up watching this moment live on TV that first time. I watched them evolve into the hippie free love group. I have still got several of their albums now, but my first was Yellow Submarine. The onslaught of British groups after that were numerous.
The Rolling Stones, the Kinks, the Who and the Yardbirds were just a smattering of them. Oh it is a large list. One other I liked was The Dave Clark Five.
About the age of sixteen I heard the darker side of rock starting to come to light. The Doors album of the same name was my first of this group. This was revolutionary. They were a west coast band. Ironically, I had been to Paris only a month or so before Jim Morrison was found dead in the same city. I was stationed in Germany during 71 and 72.
But, oh the music for me didn’t start then. The Hollys, Fats Domino, The Beach Boys, Elvis, Roy Orbison, Jerry Lewis, The Drifters and the list is extensive to include Motown. There is no way I can list all the artists of the days of my youth. I learned how to play the drums to Roy Orbison’s music like that of Pretty Woman, Only the Lonely and You Got It. One of his quotes makes me think about my wife Libby.
“Pretty woman, I don’t believe you, you’re not the truth. No one could look as good as you, mercy.”
The 70’s brought me Billy Preston, Aerosmith, ELO, Pink Floyd, The Allman Brothers, Lynrd Skynrd (which actually started in the 60’s), CCR. Awe the list is too much to type. You tell me your favorite. I’m sure they are on my list. I’ve not even scratched the surface.
By the 80’s my musical tastes had transformed to Christian music with Petra being the first Christian Rock group. Then Stryper, The Resurrection Band. The most influential of the early years was Keith Green. Right on up to today’s Christian music has bloomed into a whole new level with some of my favorites being Big Daddy Weave, Rend Collective, Third Day and For King and Country just to start.
My life is in God, but without music, life is very bland. A lot of time when I’m in meditation it is usually in song. It’s a very important part of my life. When I hear music I automatically grab the beat and I’m on it. It is what drives me.
Music can take you through the whole range of emotions in life. If you’re down, music can lift you up. It can make you cry to hear the lyrics and the melody combined into not just a song, but an experience. Where words are simple language, you will music pulls those words together into one rhythmic experience.
Rhythm is what took me to music. The sound of the drums that gathers the order of the other instruments into a lock step to carry the message riding on it. Sped up or slowed down can change the attitude of the music.
I view music from this vantage with a 3 D view much like looking at a 3 D stick box drawing. Are you looking at the top or are you looking at the bottom. I see music much the same way. It has depth. Music is to me what numbers are to a mathematician. Numbers are endless and music is much the same to me with the endless combination of notes, tones and lyrics.
I don’t know how much sense this makes to you, but to me it is way to short on the subject. For all the musicians and bands I’ve mentioned it only represents probably ten percent of the bands I know and have listened to. Think about how music has influenced you over the years of your life.
Just don’t call me late for supper.
Over the last few years confusion has arisen among friends and relatives as to my change of the name I’m called by.
First, my name is James Larry. Therein lies the foundation of all the confusion. All my life up until 2002 I was called by my middle name, which I don’t care to use. I never did. I equate it with something less than a solid masculine name. However, James, or Jim, have a more solid quality.
So, why was I not called by my first name to begin with? Well, as best I can tell, my mom wasn’t into calling “Jim” and having dad and me come to her beckon call for one of us or the other. So Larry stuck. Not saying it is not a manly name. It’s just not for me.
When I started Civil Service I was called Larry and 28 years later I was called Mr. Rowe, which took some getting used to, but that’s another story. Suffice to say when you spend that many years in one place you grow to look the part of the “Mr.” status.
Okay. 2002, after about 13 years into Civil Service I was hired into the IT department. When I reported in I knew there was a member of the staff that went by Larry. It didn’t take long to be told I could not be called by Larry, because they told me they already had one. Now was my opportunity to start the change-over process. I said, just call me James, which eventually was shortened to Jim.
My fifties was not the best decade of my life. I went through MANopause, I guess you could call it. It was worse than going through puberty. Now, when I went through puberty, I thought at times I was dying from a pimple epidemic. That and hair. Everywhere.
My fifties were filled with anxiety attacks, which the first time that happened I was at work and wanted to run away, but my being said to stay put and work through it, which I did, but the depression afterward was horrible. I was diagnosed with anxiety attacks and severe depression by my psychologist. I went through that and divorce. I made a lot of fringe decisions which I won’t divulge, but suffice to say I did successfully work through them. God has never let me down. He has given me the strength to rebuild.
I have shared the above to say this. Through it all, I gained a new life and a new identity. In the end I’ve become more stable and more understanding of others and their plights. I’m no longer capable of judging someone for their misdeeds or circumstances. I’ve learned a bent ear is better than a wagging tongue. In all this Larry was gone. He no longer existed. Jim came forth out of the cocoon, no longer a worm, but a butterfly.
That’s not to say, if you call me Larry, I won’t answer, but just know I don’t exist in that life anymore. What you see today is a totally different person than before. I like the new me. Most of all I love my Father in Heaven and my wife that I have. There are still things that aren’t settled, but I know in time all be complete. And I will see it.
So it’s Jim now. It is representative of the new me. 
Livin' Small 