Labor Day

And whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men;  Knowing that of the Lord ye shall receive the reward of the inheritance: for ye serve the Lord Christ.  --Colossians 6:23,24 KJV

This weekend is a "long holiday weekend" and the traditional end-of-summer celebration.  Monday is Labor Day.  Labor Day is recognized and celebrated in a third of all the countries in the world.  At its inception the idea was to honor those who work.

Honest work has within itself the roots of dignity, for it is by the toil of one's body and mind that food and shelter for living are obtained.

Have you ever felt your job is a drudgery in which the only rewards are the end of the shift and the paycheck?  Even in such a job is dignity, for by the devotion to the task and the performance thereof, one puts food on the table for those for whom he is responsible; and should the checks be large enough to provide assistance in addition to someone less fortunate, then that laborer is blessed indeed.

Father pounded many things into my head in my youth.  (Yes, I was that hard-headed.)  A crucial lesson had to do with the obligation of the laborer to the employer.  Dad made it quite clear that if I sold my time to an employer it was my obligation to give him full value for the recompense he would give me.  To do otherwise is not honorable.  I believe the scripture quoted above supports this doctrine, for to do right by the employer is to do right in God's sight.

In whatever way you choose to celebrate, or relax and chill, here's wishing you a wonderful weekend, Monday included.

I Say Toe-may-toe

 We put in three tomato plants this past spring.  About mid-July they started providing us with table-ready produce, about enough each day to keep us in fresh tomatoes.  Now, as August comes to a close, they have gone crazy.  We can't keep up with the supply.  That is yesterday's treasure trove.  Yes, we pick some green ones intentionally.  We like fried green tomatoes, in spite of the negative press the nay-sayers give them.  Some people simply don't know what is good.  Seriously, I understand that not all taste buds are titillated by the same flavors.

 Now that is some good eating, right there.  One tomato on the plate, one waiting its turn.

 One has to put something along the north side of the house.  We made a good choice several years ago when we installed these.

As usual, I planted some morning glories along the fence.  Lots of vine this year, but it took plumb up till now before we got any flowers.

Dora's Treasure

[A note from vanilla before today's tale:  Today is the 106th anniversary of my mother's birth.  Mother has been with her Lord and Savior many years now, but I still miss her here on this orb.]

Years after Uncle Jep and Aunt Grace had passed, I was conversing one day with one of their nieces.  Dora was daughter to Aunt Jean.  She was a mere slip of a girl when Jep and Grace got married in 1894, but she remembered being at their wedding.  At the time of my visit with her, Dora was set to turn ninety the following month, and although she may have lost a step or two, she was still in full possession of all her marbles, so to speak.

Dora had grown up in the area with Aunt Grace and Uncle Jep, knew them well in her formative years.  As you know, my time with this wonderful couple was during their later years.  I shared a few of Uncle Jep's stories with Dora, then she opened my eyes to a side of Uncle Jep I had not known.

"Uncle Jeptha used to tell me stories, too.  They seem to be somewhat different, though, from the tales he told you.  Fortunately, when I was a girl I kept a diary, and when Uncle Jep would tell me a story, I would faithfully record it in my journal.  I was but thirteen when they moved to Colorado, so you must remember that the stories were told to a very young girl.

"My diaries from that time in my life were recorded on newsprint Daddy got in Rogersville.  Mama always said fancy books for writin' down stuff simply were outside the range of our needs.  'But,' she said, 'if you really think your life is worth writing about, you will find a way.'  And I did. Leftover ends of newsprint rolls and stubby pencils, that was my way.  I cut nice sheets, kept them in a special drawer, then when I had enough done, I would punch holes in the corners and tie them together with knitting yarn.  I am not long for this world, and there is nothing in those books of which I am ashamed, so if you would like to have them, I will get them to you."

I felt as though heaven had opened and manna had dropped into my hungry mouth!  To actually have records of Jeptha's early stories seemed a dream bigger than any I had dreamed before!  I was so excited that I actually told Cousin Dora that very thought.  She smiled and quipped, "Waal, as Uncle Jep would have said, don't get yer hopes higher'n you can reach.  They are only the scribbles of a youngster, and the tales are certainly different from what you are used to."

Dora was true to her word.  She could have been home not much more than a few days at most when she mailed the package to me.  It contained two "books" bound with red yarn.  Though she had started the diary when she was seven years old, and though it was written "with a stubby pencil," the treasure was every bit as wonderful as I had hoped.

I mailed a thank-you note with birthday wishes the very next day.  Crossing it in the mail was a letter from Dora's son, Ephraim, telling me that his mother had passed, and that she had mentioned, during her last day of life, how much she appreciated the time spent with me reminiscing about the Old Auntie and Uncle Jeptha.

© 2014 David W. Lacy 45

Hospital Tales

The very old and soon-to-be-superannuated cardiologist was running a treadmill stress test.  I was the victim.  (This was a long, long time ago, which could be a heads-up that detail may be fogged by the passing of time.  Anyway, I was all hooked up and the machinery was set in motion.

I had not yet reached that point where the pain sets in to the degree that one wishes he had had a heart attack when the oscilloscope suddenly flat-lined.  The doctor went into a panic mode, punching buttons and jerking on cables.  To put him at ease, I said, "Looks like you lost me, Doc."

He was not amused.

Now the point of all this:  Click here to read Shelly's account of her recent hospital experience.  I guarantee it is much  funnier than my little tale.

Flowers and The Word

I like dahlias  A lot.  I have never had much success with growing them.

This year I put in a few.  The results are quite satisfactory.

The red and yellow is quite unusual, but I really like the white one.

The sedum is at a fun stage, white turning to pink.











The hollyhock is near the end for the year.  The simple flower has long been one of my favorites, perhaps because it was the one truly showy flower we had in our yard when I was a child.









I have no idea what this flower is.  Planted along the foundation among a bunch of other stuff, it produced one or two flowers at a time all season. But no two were the same color!  Some little bug
enjoyed this one, perhaps even more than I did.













The grass withereth, the flower fadeth: but the word of our God shall stand for ever.  --Isaiah 40:8 (KJV)

Amphibian

We were in the sitting room watching TV when BBBH turned toward the window and saw that we were being watched watching TV.

 If you biggify the pictures, you can see that he is watching us.  Look at those eyes!

After taking a few shots through the screen, I went outside to get this shot from the other side.

We've listened to his song several evenings, but this is the first time he joined us for a movie.

What do you think, Lin?  Our toad is cute, too.  Right?

Moving On

It was Summer, 1952, and I had been with Aunt Grace and Uncle Jep for several years.  "Boy," Uncle Jep said late one evening.  Aunt Grace had already retired for the night, quite unusual for her to toddle off to bed before Uncle Jep.  "You have been with us for a good long time now, and I know we could not have done without ye.  But you are a man now, an' it is clear to me this ol' place is not likely to be able to pervide for you.  Place jus' kin not keep up with mod'n needs.  Not equipped for it, not enough land for it.  Been good to me and your Aunt Grace, an' she'll see us thoo twel we shuffle off this mortal coil.  But you need to get on with your life."

"I know," I replied.  "I have been explorin' some possibilities, yet I am wondering, can you take care the place if I am not here?"

"Good of you to ask; but I hev th'answer to thet.  Yer cousin, Archie, hev a boy, jes' turn sixteen.  He desire to send him here so's I kin polish him out, so to speak."

"You have already agreed to take someone else on?"  I was incredulous.

"Don't get all offended, now.  'Course you are welcome here's long as ya like,"

"No, no.  It's not that."  I burst out laughing.  "I just yesterday agreed to take a job over to Wichita, an' I didn't know how I was going to tell you."

"Waal, now.  I reckon it's my time to be offended."  The he laughed.  "But I'm not.  Having your help has been a God-send, but 'tis shorely time for you to make a life for yerse'f."

© 2014 David W. Lacy 44

Motorsport

Indianapolis Motor Speedway

before its opening in 1909.

One hundred five years ago today, the first race was held at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway.  Over three days of racing, a driver, two mechanics, and two spectators gave their lives for motorsport.

The first "500" was run on May 30, 1911.