My Rule for Life

I would rather live my life as if there is a God, and die to find out there isn't, than live my life as if there isn't, and die to find out there is.

Thursday, January 29, 2009

I Wish They had the Internet in Heaven


I wish they had the Internet in Heaven, not so I could talk to God, He’s a little busy to email me. I’m sure He would were it necessary but usually He just responds to my requests. Sometimes yes, sometimes no.


I wanted to email my uncle Floyd. Most of you don’t know him but, he was a great guy. He passed away when I was about 9 or 10 at a very impressionable stage of my life. My mom, sister and I actually lived with him and my aunt for a couple of months. My dad was still stationed in Great Britain, he was in the Army, and we weren’t sure where we would be camping out for his next stateside duty so we stayed with Uncle Floyd and my aunt until we found out. Cleveland as a recruiter, UGH. Mom liked it though. My sister and I were hoping for California or Hawaii. Can anyone say BEACH BOYS!!!!

Uncle Floyd was a Merchant Marine during World War II. He told me that meant the Germans U-boats tried to avoid the navel escort and sink the ship he was on. I never really understood what that was but I accepted it as being somewhat like my dad, a soldier.

He was a pretty big guy, ‘specially when you are about 3 foot 5 inches and he is 6 foot 2 inches weighing in at about 205 pounds. Rough and rugged I would say now. He bought me my very first fishing rod and reel and took me to Lake Logan for my first fishing trip. We actually went out in his boat. I had to wear a life jacket, bah! Uncle Floyd didn’t because he was a Merchant Marine and could swim. Wouldn’t the park police have fun with that one nowadays!

He owned his own “tin shop” which sorta kinda made him a “tin smith”. This was back in the days when house spouting was rolled on a press in 10 foot sections. It was cut on big shears then soldered with hot irons heated in a pot. I forgot the name of the heating pot. I once saw him hang spouting on a three story building with his broken leg in a cast. He just stood on the edge of the roof, leaned over the building and drove the nails home. No safety harness, no rope, no nothing. I thought for sure he would fall. He never faltered and told me it was mind over matter or something like that.

Being in business for himself gave him a great deal of latitude in work hours and money. My aunt was very well dressed and always had fresh flowers delivered to the house when company was coming. Uncle Floyd was a sportsman and had hunting dogs, setters I think because he had a boat. He would go “out west” once a year and hunt animals of unknown type and species. He had a couple of mountain goat heads on the wall and one rather large, at least to me, bear skin on the floor in his office. He had a closet that had at least a hundred guns and rifles in it. Without any trigger locks! Quick call Family Services! Well maybe not a hundred but when you’re 10 it looks like a hundred! He promised to take me “out west” when I got a little older. You see, he would tell me “these high powered rifles have a pretty good kick and you need a little more meat on your bones.”

I never got to go “out west” with Uncle Floyd he had a bad ticker and one day he just fell over dead. I remember my mom coming to school and getting me and telling me Uncle Floyd had died of a massive heart attack. Later I found out he had known he had heart problems but he never slacked off. He just kept on working, fishing and hunting and…..telling me we would go “out west when I got a little meat on my bones.”

He WAS a great guy. For some reason I just thought of him and was wondering if he was still going “out west” and….if and when the time came I could go with him. You see, I have a little “meat on my bones” now. I think I can handle the kick of one of his high powered rifles. I just wanted to email him and let him know.

Thanks for listening, er….reading. I just wanted to share a good thought with my followers and let you know a little about one of my relatives.

They just call me Pops

6 comments:

Most Rev. Gregori said...

A wonderful posting of a wonderful life at a time long, long ago before political correctness. Thanks for the memories.

ABNPOPPA said...

Thanks for commenting MRG. Will be sliding over to your blog shortly.

Pops

MightyMom said...

when you get that email account to Heaven set up....I wanna email my Grandma...she died when I was 15 and there are 18 years worth of questions I need answers to!! INCLUDING her chocolate chip cookie recipie!!

:0)

ABNPOPPA said...

Roger that Might Mom, Roger that!

Pops

Elizabeth said...

This is a sweet story.
You should go out west, even if it's without your uncle.

ABNPOPPA said...

Elizabeth,

You embarass me. I am a big, rough, tough veteran and father of a rough, tough AIRBORNE paratrooper. Manly guys like me don't write "sweet" stories. OMG.

Smiling here (:o)

Thanks for stopping by.

Pops

Lutheran Pastor Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Destruction of the embryo in the mother's womb is a violation of the right to live which God has bestowed upon this nascent life. To raise the question whether we are here concerned already with a human being or not is merely to confuse the issue. The simple fact is that God certainly intended to create a human being and that this nascent human being has been deliberately deprived of his life. And that is nothing but murder.

Read more about this famous Lutheran Pastor at:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dietrich_Bonhoeffer