Tell Me A Story: 2016

Friday, December 30, 2016

NEW YEAR'S EVE

Mary Marcia
America's STORYTELLER
Telling Untold Stories in Photographs, Prose and Public Speaking

Link: http://tellmeastory-marcia.blogspot.com/2016/12/new-years-eve.html

December 31st

New Year's Eve

New Year's Eve, I will make a toast,

a "cup of kindness"

for days gone by,

and for past loves, and old friends.

I'll drink a cup of my homemade wassail
for auld lang syne.

Some call this Marcia's Fire Water!

RECIPE: Wassail:

Melt one package red hots (candy)

into one gallon apple cider.

Simmer on LOW in a pan on the stove.

STIR CONSTANTLY until all the red hots melt.

Serve HOT.

This is simple and delicious!

Happy New Year!

The song, Auld Lang Syne, is known in many countries, and traditionally sung at the stroke of midnight on New Year's Eve,

to say "Goodbye" to the old year.

Robert Burns, is credited with writing the lyrics to the song, Auld Lang Syne. Burns wrote a poem in 1788, that was set to the tune of an old Scottish folk song.

I never liked the lyrics to the song, Auld Lang Syne. This year my grandchildren's high school orchestra played a different and beautiful rendition of Auld Lang Syne, and I loved it. There were no words to get in the way - just beautiful music.

What do those words that everyone sings on New Year's Eve mean, anyway? I've sung it so many times in the past 50 years that the words have become a blur.

I thought of the opening line on the song as a statement that old friends should be forgotten.

It appears the words are a rhetorical question.

Should old acquaintances be forgot?

Have the flames of love extinguished?

Has your heart grown cold?

Can you never once reflect on (auld lang syne) days gone by?

I'll add a question mark to the lyrics.

Should Old Acquaintance be forgot,
and never thought upon?????????
The flames of Love extinguished,
and fully past and gone:
Is thy sweet Heart now grown so cold,
that loving Breast of thine;
That thou canst never once reflect
On Old long syne???????

CHORUS:
On Old long syne my Jo,
On Old long syne,
That thou canst never once reflect,
On Old long syne??????????????

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Auld_Lang_Syne

The song's Scots title may be translated into English literally as "old long since", or more idiomatically, "long long ago", "days gone by" or "old times".

Consequently "For auld lang syne", as it appears in the first line of the chorus, might be loosely translated as "for (the sake of) old times".

The phrase "Auld Lang Syne" is also used in similar poems by Robert Ayton (1570–1638), Allan Ramsay (1686–1757), and James Watson (1711) as well as older folk songs predating Burns.^[5] Matthew Fitt uses the phrase "In the days of auld lang syne" as the equivalent of "Once upon a time..." in his retelling of fairy tales in the Scots language.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Auld_Lang_Syne

History of an American Folk Song

By Kim Ruehl

http://folkmusic.about.com/od/folksongs/qt/AuldLangSyne.htm

The literal meaning of "Auld Lang Syne" is "Old Long Since," or "Long, Long Ago."

The lyrics talk about raising a toast to days gone by and all the joyous adventures embarked upon between friends.

The most commonly remembered verse in America is the opening:
"Should old acquaintance be forgot /
and never brought to mind? /
Should old acquaintance be forgot /
and days o' lang syne?"

These lines ask whether one can forget the days that have gone by and the friends with whom those days have been spent.

Consecutive verses recall those days, before ending with the verse:
And there’s a hand my trusty friend
And give us a hand o’ thine
And we’ll take a right good-will draught,
for auld lang syne.

Read the full lyrics of "Auld Lang Syne" or purchase/download James Taylor's version of the song.

http://folkmusic.about.com/od/folksongs/qt/AuldLangSyne.htm

"Repairer of Broken Walls."

Have you experienced loss this year?

Have family, finances,
hopes and dreams

collapsed, decayed,
or been destroyed in 2016?

Do you think

things have been damaged irreparably?

I'm praying for you.

Don't give up.

I bring a message of HOPE.

Thanks for stopping by!

Come back often, and invite a friend!

Mary Marcia

America's STORYTELLER

Telling Untold Stories in Photographs, Prose and Public Speaking

Monday, December 26, 2016

GLORY TO GOD

Mary Marcia

America's STORYTELLER
Telling Untold Stories in Photographs, Prose and Public Speaking

thegraphicsfairy.com

The Hillside Baptist Church in Dallas, Texas, is now a grain store, but memories of what happened on Christmas Eve 1922, at the Hillside Baptist Church are still very much alive.

We have Vinny Diesel to thank for telling us the story.

I'm honored that Vinny trusted me to share his story, "GLORY TO GOD."

Vinny's story is destined to be a Christmas classic. I knew it the moment he told it to me.

This story of a little boy's prayer, and his letter to Santa must be as dear to the heart of God as any prayer could ever be.

Link: http://tellmeastory-marcia.blogspot.com/2016/12/glory-to-god.html

JOURNEY TO CHRISTMAS

GLORY TO GOD

Vinny Diesel

thegraphicsfairy.com

I love my cows, and I know each of the 93 females and 15 male Texas longhorns by name. I helped deliver most of them.   I know which pair made them, and who is the son of who and the daughter of who.

Most of my cows live up to 25 years. Jean is one of the oldest cows I have right now.    Jean is 22 years old, and the great-great-great granddaughter of Troy and Vinny.

I'm 98 years old.   I was born in 1915.

Mamma bought me Troy, my first (male) Texas Longhorn in 1931, when I turned 16. We lived just outside Dallas, Texas, on about four acres. My daddy, my little brother and me were all polo players. Daddy kept our horses on a ranch about two hours from our Dallas house.

thegraphicsfairy.com

The first cow in my herd was my namesake, Vinny. I named him after me. I thought he was a male. It was too late to change his name when I discovered she was a female milking cow.

I'd been a good boy that year...in 1922. I was seven years old. I volunteered to make two cows for our elementary school project: a wooden nativity.

My best friend, Ethan, and his family had cows. I called Ethan's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Milk-it. Why? Because Ethan told me his parents touched the cow's tits (teets). Mamma wouldn't let me say the word 'tits' in the house - so I called them Mr. and Mrs. Milk-it.

I used to go out to Ethan's barn at least three times a week. Ethan's mom was my English teacher. I had trouble with English. Ethan's dad offered to tutor me at their house. He taught me how to spell in the barn around the cows. I remember things were always better when I was around cows. I scrubbed them with soap, and wrote my spelling words in the lather on the cows.

I asked Santa to give me a baby cow that year (1922). I saw my brother write a letter to Santa on formal paper. He dipped the fountain pen in the ink well to write it.

I was so busy I didn't write my letter to Santa until Christmas Eve. I had just finished eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, so I wrote Santa on the back of a napkin with a red crayon. I ate part of the crayon because it looked good for some reason.

My letter went somethin' like this:

Dear Mr. Santa Claus,
I need a baby cow, because I want to start my own farm. When I grow up I want to be a farmer. Just leave the baby cow in my front yard, and that will be much appreciated - or I will come and hunt you down, and take a cow from your house.
Vinny

P.S.
My daddy gave me a gun.

I did not threaten Santa. I just mentioned about my gun. I asked Mom to approve it.

"Vinny, you might not want to tell Santa that you got a Smith & Wesson shotgun," Mom said.

My name was engraved on the stock, where the wooden part is, that you lean against your shoulder.

"And Vinny, "Mom said, "You've got some left over peanut butter and jelly on that napkin."

"Santa won't care about the napkin," I told Mom, "and about the gun - I'm just making sure he knows where I stand."


thegraphicsfairy.com

I gave my letter to the mailman on Christmas Eve, but I thought my letter might get to Santa too late. I thought maybe - just maybe I should ask God for a baby cow, and God would relay the message to Santa.

I prayed: "Hey, God...If you really love me, you will tell Santa I want a baby cow. We're going to church tonight, and take the Lord's Supper. Then I'm gonna donate all the money I have in the offering bucket. The least you can do is give me a baby cow. Amen."

I went up to my room, and put my suit on. Mom hollered that it was time to go. Service at the Hillside Baptist Church in Dallas started at 7 PM.

Mom, Dad, my brother and I all got into an old blue pickup truck. Maybe it was a Ford. Right as we pulled out of the driveway, Mom said she forgot something in the house. She got out, and headed back in the house. She said she would catch a ride with Mrs. Phillips, our neighbor.

Church had just started when we arrived. We sat in the middle pew. Pastor Anthony started singing, Amazing Grace, and asked us to pick up the hymnals. We sang a couple other songs, and Pastor began to talk about the Nativity story.

thegraphicsfairy.com

"Who will volunteer to come up and help me? We have costumes and cards so everyone will know what to say," said Pastor Anthony.

Pastor wrote dialogue on the back of his wife's recipe cards.

They got a Mary. Her name was Sandy O'Reilly. I had the biggest crush on Sandy. She had flaming red hair, and she wore it in two braids. She wore her mommy's perfume and it smelled like, well..really strong flowers. She had on a pink dress that she bought in Dallas. I saw it in the window at Macy's a few days before Christmas Eve. Sandy wore white socks with lace, and black patent-leather Mary Jane shoes. At the end of her piggy tails, her mommy put pink ribbons tied in bows.

They used a doll for Baby Jesus - a black baby doll. There was controversy about the black baby doll after church.

thegraphicsfairy.com

People volunteered to be the wisemen.

Pastor Anthony was a hunter and taxidermist.

He like to use the animals he stuffed in the Nativity. There were a couple lambs, a couple goats, a dog, and a bear he named SMOKEY.

Pastor kept most of his stuffed animals in his office at church. I had seem them many times. Whenever kids got in trouble at school, the church ladies always found out about it, and we were summoned to the pastor's office for a talk.

A stuffed goat sat on Pastor's couch.

thegraphicsfairy.com

A squirrel that Pastor named Jimmy,
stood on his office desk
by his window.
He put an acorn with it.

the graphicsfairy.com

There was a
stuffed cat
Pastor called
Meow Meow
that he found
on the side of the road.
We think
it was
our
neighbor's cat.

thegraphicsfairy.com

Sandy had a parakeet that died.
Her momma asked Pastor to stuff it. It creeped out Sandy, so Pastor kept it.

The parakeet stood on the back of the preacher's chair in his office.

Normally, we don't see all the animals. Some Sundays his bear, SMOKEY, greeted people with a sign on his paw that said, "WELCOME."

Pastor made homemade perfume spray that smelled like barbeque that he sprayed on SMOKEY. I could smell it when we came in church. It always made me hungry.

Pastor's wife didn't like the stuffed animals, so they stayed in his office at church.

One of my friends, Bobby, said the animals in the church office weren't real. I wanted to prove him wrong. So my best friend, Ethan, and Bobby and I snuck down to the basement of Pastor Anthony's house. He lived only a couple blocks away from me.

Back then Pastor never locked his door, and everybody knew it. We found a half-skinned bear in the basement that Pastor was working on. It creeped us out. Bobby peed his pants. We laughed as we ran out.

"Who will be Joseph?" Pastor Anthony asked that Christmas Eve.

No one volunteered.

Suddenly my brother yelled out: "Vinny would love to be Joseph!"

Dad looked at me: "God bless you, Vinny."

What could I do?

I got up, and walked down the isle. It felt like every eye was upon me. Pastor and SMOKEY greeted me at the altar. Did I mention that I had stage fright? I was the kid who always sat at the back of the room so I wouldn't be called on.

I don't know whether I was more nervous to be standing by Sandy, or to read notes off the back of the recipe card. I was afraid I might read the wrong side of the recipe card, and say something like "two cups of sugar" instead of what Joseph was supposed to say.

Joseph's costume was too small for me, and his robe split down the middle. I just went with it. It worked.

My love, Sandy, laughed at me.

I was laughing at her, too, because of the pillow she put in her tummy.

We sang more songs, and Pastor told the Nativity story.

The only line I had to do was turn to the shepherds and say: "Is there room in the Inn?" And to the audience I said: "Wow! Can you imagine asking that question about 2000 years ago?"

Pastor Anthony turned off the lights.

It was dark.

Some lady helped take the pillow out of Sandy.

When the lights came back on, Sandy and I were holding and rocking the black Baby Jesus in our arms. We tried to put Baby Jesus in the manger, but something happened. His head fell off. It rolled down the stairs, and continued to roll halfway down the center isle between the church pews.

It got quiet.

I yelled out: "GLORY TO GOD."

Everyone started laughing.

I fetched Baby Jesus' head, held it up between my hands, and crawled back on stage.

Sandy stood there with her mouth open, and one eyebrow raised.

"Baby Jesus needs to lay in His manger," I told Sandy. "We'll get him a doctor tomorrow."

Laughter rang out in the church.

I noticed Mamma showed up toward the end. She laughed hysterically. My little brother tugged on Mom and Dad's clothes and asked them questions. They couldn't answer because they laughed so hard.

Pastor Anthony said, "Thank you for volunteering, Vinny, and thank you for your dialogue. It blessed the Lord."

I went back to my seat.

Mamma put her hands around my shoulders: "Vinny, what made you think to say 'Glory to God'?"

"Mamma," I said, "I asked God to give me a sign if He was going to give me a baby cow, and I figured when Baby Jesus' head rolled off - it was His sign that He got the word to Santa, and Santa was going to give me a baby cow. So I said, 'Glory to God'."

"My precious sweetheart," Mamma said. "That is very interesting, but don't tell that to the pastor. Just tell him you were overwhelmed with the goodness of God."

"OK, Mamma," I said.

All the way home, my brother asked questions. "Mom, was Jesus black?"

Mamma said, "Actually, yes."

He asked Dad: "Did Jesus' head really roll off when He was born?"

"I don't think so," Dad said.

A thousand questions later, Mom and Dad gave one word replies: "Yes. No. Maybe."

We were all happy to get out of the truck.

Mom ran to the front door, and wouldn't let us in.

She said: "Boys, don't come in until I tell you to. If you come in - bad things will happen to you."

Ten minutes later I heard, "Owwww!" from Mom.

Then she opened the door and let us in.

I looked under the tree. There was a BIG blanket spread out on the floor. It was an old quilt that Mom made from potato sacks. She used to cut the potato sacks in pieces, and then she sewed them all together to make patchwork quilts. Some of the merchants at the stores in Dallas even saved fabric squares for Mamma.

There were lots of presents under our Christmas tree.

I swore I saw that patchwork quilt move.

"I think we should let Vinny open his present first, since it might eat all the other presents."

All I heard was: "Let Vinny open his present first."

I pulled the quilt off - and there - laid a baby cow! It was all brown, with a white patch from the top of his head all the way down his nose. His fur was soft like he had just taken a bath. He didn't make a noise. He probably weighed about 50 pounds.

I had asked for a cow for a long time, and here it was! Later, Mamma told me she bought my baby cow at the Dallas Farmer's Market. She hid it in our neighbor, Mrs. Phillips' garage, and then snuck the cow in our house on Christmas Eve, and put it in the screened porch until we got back from church.

Mamma asked me to put my baby cow back in the screened porch until we opened more presents. I opened more presents. Mamma gave me shears for my cow, and a harness.

"I'm willing to drive you everyday to the ranch, so you can take care of your cow, Vinny," Mamma said.

We had ranch hands that could have taken care of my cow, but Mamma wanted to teach me responsibility. Everyday, after school, she drove me two hours to our ranch, so I could take care of my namesake, Vinny. I named him after me. I thought he was a male. It was too late to change his name when I discovered she was a female milking cow.

Troy, my first Texas longhorn, and Vinny mated. That was the beginning of my first herd. They had a set of twins: a boy and a girl I named Ashton and Marilyn.

Jean is one of the oldest cows I have right now. Jean is 22 years old, and the great-great-great granddaughter of Troy and Vinny.

I'm 98 years old. I was born in 1915.

Things were always better when I was around cows.

I love my cows, and I know each of the 93 females and 15 male Texas longhorns by name. I helped deliver most of them. I know which pair made them, and who is the son of who and the daughter of who.

GLORY TO GOD

Vinny Diesel

thegraphicsfairy.com

Thanks

for

stopping

by!

Come

back

often,

and

invite

friend!

Merry

Christmas!

Mary Marcia

America's STORYTELLER

Telling Untold Stories in Photographs, Prose and Public Speaking

http://tellmeastory-marcia.blogspot.com/

Monday, December 19, 2016

THE CHRISTMAS STORY

Mary Marcia
America's STORYTELLER
Telling Untold Stories in Photographs, Prose and Public Speaking

Link: http://tellmeastory-marcia.blogspot.com/2016/12/the-christmas-story.html

THE CHRISTMAS STORY

Copyright 2011 Marcia Norwood

CLICK on each image to ENLARGE.

Did you memorize The Christmas story from the Holy Bible as a child? My classmates and I memorized most of the second chapter of the book of Luke, in Mrs. Ballew's 3rd grade class at Franklin Elementary in Liberty, Missouri, in 1958.

1955: First Day of School at Franklin Elementary: Friend Joy, Marcia, Cousin Tandra. Copyright 1955 Marcia Norwood. (Liberty Public Schools integrated in 1959. I'm the dark skinned girl in the middle...thanks to my suntan and my American Indian heritage.)

What a treasure to have this scripture hidden in my heart all these years.

I can still recite most of the Christmas story...although there are times I can't remember where I put my keys, or even my children's names. In a rush - I'm known to go through the list of all their names, and have on occasion even called my children one of the dog's names.

"Kristin, Dave, Ben, Sarah, Faith, Sheba, Cotton Candi, Rascal, Izzy Belle, Pearl Ming Zhu, Daisy Duke, Tilly, Joshua, Megan, Emily, Caleb - whatever your name is - it's time for the Christmas story!"

Our Puppy Pack, Rescued and Adopted: Daisy, Izzy Belle, Pearl Ming-Zhu and Tilly

Christmas Eve we gather on the floor (before we open our gifts) to read the cards we have received throughout the season, and then we read the Christmas story from the Bible in the book of Luke, Chapter 2.

"And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed..."

Often in the hustle and bustle of the holidays, I forget the Christmas story is about real people who paid taxes just like you and me, in a real place, the city of Bethlehem.

I stood on the rolling hills of Bethlehem in 1997, and actually saw shepherds abiding in the fields, keeping watch over their flocks. Bethlehem is just a few miles outside Jerusalem, Israel.

Bethlehem looks much the same now - as it did over 2,000 years ago when Jesus was born.

Bethlehem means "City of Bread."

Jesus is called "The Bread of Life."

The Bread of Life was born in the City of Bread!

The leader of our tour group, Dr. Bob Collins, asked me to lead a devotional at The Shepherd's Field, Terra Santa, in Bethlehem. I began to recite Luke 2, the chapter of the Bible that I learned in Mrs. Ballew's 3rd grade class nearly 40 years before.

Others had memorized it, too.

Imagine! God could have announced Jesus' birth to the richest, most prominent people in their mansions, or to political leaders in palaces. Instead God chose to send the angel of the Lord to the lowly shepherds, common men, going about their ordinary tasks with sheep on a hillside.

Sheep are cute, but they can be stinky and stubborn.

The Good Shepherd continues to interrupt ordinary lives and brings His light and love to stubborn, stinky sheep like you and me.

We all have a reason to celebrate this Christmas.