tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31640154800576273962024-02-20T01:52:03.760-08:00Visit the 'Villebrendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05500057750319032298noreply@blogger.comBlogger21125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164015480057627396.post-90309640180669622011-02-05T03:46:00.000-08:002011-02-05T04:52:32.152-08:00To Run or Not To Run<p align="justify"><strong>To run or not to run--that is the question! I want to affect the future of this town. I care about what happens here. I want Crothersville to become what it can be--not necessarily what it was 50 or 60 years ago! I want this town to celebrate and enjoy its history and to anticipate and plan for its future. I'm willing to do my part, whatever that might be!</strong></p><div align="justify"><strong></strong> </div><p align="justify"><strong> I am involved in several local organizations. I have a business, a gift shop, which I need to promote more. I believe such shops are important to Crothersville's future. I have spent most of my life here, and I hope to spend the rest of my life here. I truly believe that the PRESENT is shaped by the PAST and shapes the FUTURE. What I do now matters. The course our town has taken has affected its condition today. Its condition today affects our decisions and actions in the future. </strong></p><div align="justify"><strong></strong> </div><p align="justify"><strong> I had a personal dream--to own and operate a gift shop called Aunt Samantha's.</strong><strong>That dream was realized on June 2, 2007, when I opened the shop. But there was vision, planning, and action involved. In the same way dreams for our town can be realized--with vision, planning, and appropriate action. I wrote a blog, I Have a Dream, a couple of years ago concerning my dream (vision or hope) for Crothersville. The words expressing my dream came rather easily. But the planning and action are still needed. </strong></p><div align="justify"> </div><p align="justify"><strong> I am (and intend to remain) involved in Crothersville's future. However, the question seems to me to be whether I personally should step forward to run for the Town Council, or whether I should leave that to others and just maintain my current involvement in local organizations and affairs. </strong> <strong>Can I accomplish more as an individual than I can as a member of the Town Council? Do I want the stigma of politics attached to my efforts? Or can my efforts be enhanced by political position? Will my motives, statements, and actions be analyzed and shredded? Can I endure criticism? Can I consider the ideas expressed by others as equal to my own and work as a member of a team, rather than as an individual? Am I willing to risk offending people? Will my unwillingness to "suck up" be a problem? Am I overestimating my own importance? I will definitely prayerfully consider these and other questions as I seek wisdom for this decision! I welcome comments.</strong></p><div align="justify"><strong> </strong></div>brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05500057750319032298noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164015480057627396.post-52338964594509696342010-09-24T04:30:00.000-07:002010-09-24T05:06:21.717-07:00WE'RE BACK!<div align="justify"><strong>Crothersville Town Players are back! We are preparing for a dinner theater on Friday/Saturday, November 12 & 13. The play is <em>Ever Young, </em>an old script about four women and their approaches to life and love. I'm having fun, and I certainly think the audience will have fun watching the production, as well! Tickets are $15 for dinner and the play, and they are available at my shop, Aunt Samantha's. </strong></div><div align="justify"><strong></strong> </div><div align="justify"><strong>For a small town such as Crothersville, it is important that opportunities in the performing arts be encouraged for both participants and spectators. Crothersville High School is to be commended for the opportunities it provides for its students through such productions as <em>Oklahoma!</em> to be performed on October 15 & 16. Through the Crothersville Town Players such opportunities are extended to the entire community.</strong></div><div align="justify"><strong> </strong></div><div align="justify"><strong></strong> </div><div align="justify"><strong></strong> </div>brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05500057750319032298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164015480057627396.post-52789329404453620072010-04-03T09:19:00.000-07:002010-04-03T09:48:03.623-07:00FOR EASTER 2010<div align="left"><strong>For me, this song says it all! </strong></div><div align="left"><strong> Hallelujah! What a Savior!</strong></div><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><div align="left"><strong>"Man of Sorrows," what a name for the Son of God who came</strong></div><div align="left"><strong>Ruined sinners to reclaim! Hallelujah! what a Savior!</strong></div><div align="left"><strong></strong></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><strong>Bearing shame and scoffing rude, In my place condemned He stood;</strong></div><div align="left"><strong>Sealed my pardon with His blood; Hallelujah! what a Savior!</strong></div><div align="left"><strong></strong></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><strong>Guilty, vile, and helpless, we; Spotless Lamb of God was He;</strong></div><div align="left"><strong>Full atonement, can it be? Hallelujah! what a Savior!</strong></div><div align="left"><strong></strong></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><strong>Lifted up was He to die, "It is finished," was His cry;</strong></div><div align="left"><strong>Now in Heav'n exalted high; Hallelujah! what a Savior!</strong></div><div align="left"><strong></strong></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><strong>When He comes, our glorious King, All His ransomed home to bring,</strong></div><div align="left"><strong>Then anew this song we'll sing: Hallelujah! what a Savior!</strong></div><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong>Philip P. Bliss</strong><em><strong>, Sing Joyfully</strong> <strong>(#283)</strong></em> </div>brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05500057750319032298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164015480057627396.post-33107057310844404272009-07-10T21:34:00.000-07:002009-07-10T23:35:20.171-07:00HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JOHN !<div align="justify">Happy birthday to our first son, John Eric Holzworth. You were the first, the one we practiced on. You amazed Darrell Crawford, babysitter Pauline's husband, with your early counting skills, and astounded Flavia Barnett, our minister's wife, with your reading ability. But as a teacher, I knew you were ready, so I encouraged you! (Well, I actually think you might say I pushed you!)<br />In spite of my efforts, you did your own thing as well! </div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">I remember how proud we were of you, our first-born. I remember the photo of you standing behind the steering wheel of Red Reynolds' van. I remember when you took swimming lessons at Kurtz' pool. I remember when you bought a valentine for a special girl. I remember how you cried when our dog, Lucky, got hit and died. I remember your car wrecks, especially the one where you called me from Dudleytown. I remember your short but unwilling stint at IUS. I remember when you were in an apartment in Seymour and got sick. I remember when you moved to Massachusetts, the Christmas I flew out to visit you, and your visits back here. Those are just some of the memories I have.</div><br /><div align="justify">I still think you would be a great talk show host! You can carry on a conversation with anybody and they feel very comfortable and honored. You have an easy, low-key manner with people. But I also know you have a depth of feeling that I haven't always recognized. And you are funny, with a subtle sense of humor. You get along great with children! You are loyal to your friends. You are thoughtful with cards and gifts. You have to like your job to stay with it. Those are some of the things I admire and appreciate about you. And of course you love your music.</div><br /><div align="justify"><strong>Happy Birthday, John!</strong><br /></div><div align="justify"><strong>Love, Mom</strong><br /><br /><div align="justify">(For photos see: thewarrens-cliffandsusan.blogspot.com )<br /><br /></div><br /><div align="justify"></div></div>brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05500057750319032298noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164015480057627396.post-27887539560275580802009-07-09T07:40:00.000-07:002009-07-13T11:15:55.878-07:00Such A Little Word<div align="justify"><strong>"If" is such a little word! But it does have such great implications. When looking at the past, "if" is usually used in the expression, "If only . . . ," indicating regret for what was or wasn't done, or did or didn't happen. I'm sure we all have our own ways of finishing that expression.<br /><br /></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong>However, the word "if" also exists for the present--conditionally, that is. "If I do this, this will be the result." "If I do this, eventually this will happen." So for now "if" serves to keep our actions in check in order to avoid or experience certain consequences, both negative and positive.<br /><br />Then there is "What if?" "What if . . . ?" may express our fears about the outcome of an anticipated course of action, but "What if . . .?" may also express the potential results of trying new approaches and actions, encouraging us to step boldly forward into the future.<br /><br /></div><div align="justify"><strong></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong>So we see that the little word "if" may be used to show past regret, to ground us in the present, or to prevent us from or to spur us on to bigger and better things. However much we might wish we could, we can't change the past. Of course, we want to act honorably and responsibly now. But most importantly, we may think about the future with hope and determination to make it better, "if" we are willing to think and act in ways we have never tried before! </strong><strong>That is true of individuals, groups, communities, states, and nations.</strong></div><br /></strong>brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05500057750319032298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164015480057627396.post-39538682958232680692009-06-17T07:46:00.000-07:002010-06-10T11:57:08.510-07:00HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JASON !<div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">This space honors our second son, Jason Frederick, born on June 17, 1978. Dr. Blaisdell always said you were at the top of the growth chart, and you grew to be 6'4" tall. One of my favorite memories of you is as a little boy riding your bike on the sidewalk in your red Superman cape (made by Aunt Margaret), blue Superman pajamas, and red Superman underoos--making a complete Superman look! </span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I remember your pet bird, a "quaker" parrot, which I was afraid of because Nemo would attack me when I walked past his cage! I also remember your captivation with reptiles and amphibians--going to the Louisville Zoo, the Reptile Emporium at Nashville, and much later, convincing your Dad to take you to "Uncle Bill's," a store west of Indianapolis, after big John's appointments at </span></strong><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I. U. Medical Center. I remember tarantulas, a frog, lizards of various kinds, and of course, snakes (plus numerous crickets, mice, and rats for food). Then, later, your passion became fitness and mountain biking. Today, I would say your passion is photography. All of the things which have intrigued you have become sources of income--snakes, bikes, and photography.</span></strong></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I am proud of you for your drive and determination! These qualities have made you a success in your undertakings. You worked at WalMart Distribution Center in Seymour for several years and took classes to receive an Associate's Degree in Technical Graphics (Purdue program). You went on a mission trip to the Dominican Republic, and later did bike camps. You have traveled throughout much of the U. S. You now live in Louisville and own your own home. (And you are an accomplished Scrabble player, beating the tar out of me most of the time.) </span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JASON! Love, Mom </span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">(For photos, see thewarrens-cliffandsusan.blogspot.com.)</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></strong></div>brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05500057750319032298noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164015480057627396.post-53998888635466595242009-04-22T09:56:00.000-07:002009-04-22T13:53:50.691-07:00IN MEMORY OF MOM (APRIL 22, 1926 - JANUARY 10, 2005)<div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">Today, April 22, would have been my mom's 83rd birthday! Mom died in 2005, and I remember when Jane (my sister) called to tell me. I wish the phone could ring now, and it would be Mom calling just to talk, the way she often did. That's one of the things I remember about her. I remember when we were little she used to tell us about a time when she worked in Indianapolis. She loved pretty clothes and pretty things. She used to narrate pretend fashion shows for me. I remember her love of reading, which she definitely passed on to all of us. I remember buying her a set of teddy bear salt and pepper shakers which are now in my kitchen instead of in the corner shelf in hers. I remember how mad she would get when my cat would drag dead mice onto her porch or steps. She threatened Muffy's life, but her bark was worse than her bite. I remember when she learned to drive. I remember when she wore a red dress to my sister, Julinda's wedding, and she danced, too. The red dress and the dancing were things she really wanted; dreams, perhaps, or rekindled memories. I also remember her wonderful meatloaf and fried chicken, better than any I've ever had. </span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">She truly loved the beauty of her lilac bush and her forsythia bush. Even though Mom's</span></strong> <strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">circumstances were never as beautiful as she would have liked, she endured them anyway! I know that she really wanted each one of us, her seven children. I was not my mom's favorite child (she would have denied that she had any) but I know she loved me! She always rooted for the perceived underdog, who had her utmost sympathy, and she made excuses for people who got in trouble, whatever the reason, and felt sorry for them. </span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">Like my dad, my mom was very smart, although she also did not finish high school. She liked to work crossword puzzles and play word games. She saved many things, tangible reminders of happy memories, experiences, and events. In her later years, Mom had some physical problems, but she kept on going. Her heart was always at the Methodist Church in Shoals, where Grandma and Grandpa Gilbert had always gone, although for a time she attended elsewhere. </span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">So today, in this space, I remember my mom, Bessie Mae (Gilbert) Sanders, a smart, caring, sympathetic, and determined woman. I can only hope to be like that, too!</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></div></span></strong>brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05500057750319032298noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164015480057627396.post-68275042176794796542009-03-28T08:01:00.000-07:002009-03-28T09:26:49.836-07:00A Sad Day for Crothersville<div align="justify">It is a sad day for Crothersville! Something wonderful has ended. Hamacher Hall and the Heritage Haus Restaurant are now a thing of the past. There was an article in last night's (Seymour) <em>Tribune </em>attempting to explain it all, but the future is particularly unclear. I do not believe that Hamacher Hall, designated Crothersville's historical and cultural arts center, had outlived its purpose. It became whatever it needed to be at the time--a place to display Indiana history artifacts, a place for scarecrow and tree-trimming contests, a place for individuals to combine their pieces of Crothersville history into a more complete picture, a place to perform amateur play productions, a place for area musicians to perform, a place to host meetings, and occasionally a place for grander, more formal events. The food at the restaurant was always delicious, and the tea was unsurpassed. Marcia Fleetwood, the director, obviously was dedicated to every aspect of her work, and was innovative in her approach, while not ignoring lessons from past experience.</div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">I am grieved that the Crothersville community was not more welcoming, accepting, and encouraging of Marcia and her efforts. She worked wholeheartedly and sacrificially at the task she had accepted. It is disheartening to see one's efforts brought to nought. Community support was to a great extent lacking for any endeavor which was undertaken. Surely Crothersville still needs a place to display its history, a place to host meetings, and another restaurant. Surely it is to our advantage to have a place for performing and enjoying music, plays, and special events. So what happens now? We go out of town for what we want and need, instead of obtaining at least some of those experiences locally. If Crothersville is to make progress in becoming what it has the potential to become, then Crothersville's people are going to have to examine their attitudes toward "strangers" and "outsiders." We are going to have to do more than talk about our small-town friendliness and Hoosier hospitality; we are going to have to practice it! We are going to have to get to know newcomers, rather than just listen to others' opinions or gossip!</div><div align="justify"></div>brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05500057750319032298noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164015480057627396.post-28913438137066239462009-03-01T03:26:00.000-08:002009-03-02T04:19:10.917-08:00<div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:180%;">In Memory</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:180%;">of</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:180%;">Carl Franklin (Frank) Sanders</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:180%;">March 1, 1920 - September 26, 2000</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:180%;">My Dad</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:180%;"></span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:180%;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:180%;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:180%;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:180%;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:180%;">My dad loved me. I was "Daddy's Little Girl," his firstborn. I remember how he worked every day at Crane (NAD then) as an Electronics Technician. I remember when he would pick berries or get pawpaws over by the river, or cook rabbit or squirrel, or just fix breakfast once in a while. When I was very young he would buy these little pencil drawings from me for a nickel. He installed indoor plumbing in our house; he was quite a handyman. He was organized and smart, even though he did not have a high school diploma. He took a correspondence course to learn radio and TV repair, and he repaired them for not very much money, since he knew no one had much. He used to go to Bedford to get parts, and he carried this caddy around. He could also wire houses and inspect wiring. Those were ways of adding to his income. And he added rooms onto our house as the family grew larger. </span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:180%;">He used to take us for rides on Sunday afternoons. And I remember one time that he took me to </span></strong><strong><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:180%;">Queen's Clothing Store in Shoals to get a dress and shoes for a band concert. (The dress was coral and had tucks in front and a gathered skirt.) I also remember how he would transport me to church, and later to Bible college.</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:180%;">I remember when he "gave me away" at my wedding. He wouldn't take sides when John and I argued, and he probably had more empathy with John's physical difficulties than anyone I know. He spent time with our sons, and he thought they turned out well--he told me so!</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:180%;"></span></strong><strong><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:180%;">Dad wasn't very demonstrative, but I remember that at some point in his later years, I started kissing him good-bye when I left, and later it became the expected thing. In his later years he accepted Christ and was baptized, and I remember the sermon at his funeral about the workers who worked different amounts of time but received the same reward. It will be a joy to see him again in eternity!</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:180%;">I know my Dad was always proud of all of us, his seven children; he sacrificed for us and gave us everything he could, and I know he often went in debt doing it! The person he was was shown in the things he did and the care with which he did them.</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:180%;">(Tribute and lots of photos on thewarrens-cliffandsusan.blogspot.com)</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:180%;"></span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:180%;"></span></strong> </div>brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05500057750319032298noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164015480057627396.post-35513222197614067492009-01-20T07:32:00.000-08:002009-01-21T08:41:39.687-08:00I HAVE A DREAM!<div align="justify"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>I have a dream! </strong>I dream of Crothersville becoming a thriving little town with several businesses and specialty shops worth getting off the interstate or just stopping in to check out and patronize.</span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-size:130%;">I dream of a town that is not dying or even just surviving, but actually thriving. (That means healthy and growing.)</span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-size:130%;">I dream of a town which provides an inviting town park for all to use. I dream of a town which provides a community center and activities for its citizens of varying ages. I dream of a town where all are educated appropriately, and where families are proud to made their homes and proud of the homes they make. I dream of a town where the churches are <strong>almost</strong> filled (that leaves room for a few more).</span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-size:130%;">I dream of a town which appreciates and advertises its positives, and recognizes and overcomes its weaknesses--a place where citizens work together. I dream of a town which shines because of all it is and has and offers. I dream of the time when Crothersville is regarded as a small but precious jewel of a place--a little town with lots to offer<strong>. Yes, I do have a dream! How about you?</strong></span></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">FAITH****FAMILIES***FRIENDS****FUTURE</span></strong> </div><div align="justify"></div>brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05500057750319032298noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164015480057627396.post-81041621737551571322008-12-13T10:03:00.000-08:002008-12-13T10:11:36.962-08:00IN MEMORY<div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:180%;">This space is dedicated </span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:180%;">to the memory of</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:180%;"></span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:180%;">JOHN FREDERICK HOLZWORTH</span></strong></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;"><strong>December 12, 1939 </strong></span></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:180%;">-</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:180%;">December 8, 1996</span></strong></div>brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05500057750319032298noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164015480057627396.post-53534586300409699092008-12-03T08:31:00.000-08:002008-12-03T08:57:03.385-08:00A Christmas Poem by Joseph Bayly<strong>Praise Him for the incarnation,</strong><br /><strong>for the Word made flesh.</strong><br /><strong>I will not sing of shepherds</strong><br /><strong>watching flocks on frosty nights,</strong><br /><strong>or angel choristers.</strong><br /><strong>I will not sing of a stable bare in </strong><strong>Bethlehem,</strong><br /><strong>or lowing oxen,</strong><br /><strong>wise men trailing star with gold,</strong><br /><strong>frankincense, and myrrh.</strong><br /><strong>Tonight I will sing praise to the Father</strong><br /><strong>who stood on heaven's threshold</strong><br /><strong>and said farewell to his Son</strong><br /><strong>as he stepped across the stars</strong><br /><strong>to Bethlehem and Jerusalem.</strong><br /><strong>And I will sing praise to the infinite, </strong><strong>eternal Son</strong><br /><strong>who became most finite, a baby</strong><br /><strong>who would one day be executed for</strong><strong> my crime.</strong><br /><strong>Praise him in the heavens,</strong><br /><strong>Praise him in the stable,</strong><br /><strong>Praise him in my heart.</strong><br /><strong></strong><br />John 1 gives a nontraditional look at Christmas. You<br />might want to read it in conjunction with Joseph Bayly's<br />profound poem, which has become one of my favorites. <br />Philippians 2:5-11 is also an appropriate scripture passage.brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05500057750319032298noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164015480057627396.post-86687365159920583202008-11-08T08:04:00.000-08:002008-11-13T11:57:40.522-08:00UNCHANGING<div align="justify">Following the recent election, Barack Obama was elected to become the next U. S. President. Whatever your opinion of this candidate, we know that his campaign was based on the need for change. Some changes are necessary, inevitable, and/or desirable. Some are not! A change in the executive branch of government was necessary and inevitable. Hopefully Obama will make the desirable, needed changes in an open and amenable way. </div><br /><div align="justify">Meanwhile, change happens all around us. I have certainly changed over my 62 years. The seasons change over the course of the year. Industry, transportation, music, fashion, technology, and many other things continue to change. Progress is often synonymous with change. Change is often part of growth.</div><br /><div align="justify">BUT SOME THINGS NEVER CHANGE! The God in whom I have placed my faith has never changed, although my understanding of Him has no doubt changed. His love is a constant. God's desire for fellowship with mankind has not changed. His church, although not always engaged in appropriate activities, still stands. The Word of God abides forever. And the place prepared for us is eternal, which means forever, unchanging.</div><br /><div align="justify">As the hymn, <em>Great is thy Faithfulness, </em>says so well<em>:</em></div><br /><div align="justify"><em>Great is thy faithfulness, O God my Father, </em><br /></div><div align="justify"><em>There is no shadow of turning with Thee;</em></div><div align="justify"><em>Thou changest not, Thy compassions they fail not;</em></div><div align="justify"><em>As Thou hast been Thou forever wilt be.</em></div><div align="justify"><em></em> </div><div align="justify"><em></div>(Chorus)</em><div align="justify"><em>Great is Thy faithfulness! Great is Thy faithfulness!</em></div><div align="justify"><em>Morning by morning new mercies I see;</em></div><div align="justify"><em>All I have needed Thy hand hath provided--</em></div><div align="justify"><em>Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me!</em></div><br /><div align="justify">Thomas O. Chisholm, p.17, <strong><em>Sing Joyfully</em></strong></div>brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05500057750319032298noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164015480057627396.post-14793610361195257962008-11-01T11:09:00.000-07:002008-11-01T12:03:11.721-07:00Crothersville Was Buzzing with Activity<div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"> Last night (Halloween) our CARD group was passing out treat to the children who stopped at our designated spot. The town was full of people and cars, and I remarked to someone that this is probably how it used to be back in the "glory days" (50's and 60's). It was good to see that! Also, I was impressed by the parents accompanying their children. Almost all the children were with parents, grandparents, or other adults in charge. Many of the children said thank you for what they received, and all of them were polite. There were several groups giving out treats in order to encourage a safe and happy Halloween for the children.</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"> A couple of younger kids actually remembered me from school and claimed they were sorry I had retired, because they had wanted to be in my class. That is a shocker!</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"> One of our group was actually in costume (her clown attire)! And we were able to discuss some business toward the end of our stint. We are looking forward to preparing a basket for the Senior Citizens' silent auction at their Christmas dinner, and to the FFA Christmas Craft Show and Christmas Kick-Off for Crothersville, a joint event on November 22. <em>Aunt Samantha's</em> will be having an open house that day, along with a lot of other Crothersville organizations and businesses. CARD will be sponsoring a Santa House and lights will be turned on. </span></strong><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">We're excited about the opportunity to see Crothersville working together to kick off the holiday season.</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">(CARD is an acronym for Crothersville Area Revitalization and Development.)</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </div>brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05500057750319032298noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164015480057627396.post-8722380687892113612008-10-22T07:39:00.000-07:002008-10-22T08:24:29.109-07:00What Would This Ghost Say?<span style="font-size:130%;">As Halloween nears, we think of ghosts. This very special poem celebrates two very special people who live on in our memories, a mother and her son.</span><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">If Nancy Hanks came back as a ghost,</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Seeking news of what she loved most,</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">She'd ask first, "Where's my son?</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">What's happened to Abe? What's he done?"</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">"You wouldn't know about my son?</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Did he grow tall? Did he have fun?</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Did he learn to read? Did he get to town?</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Do you know his name? Did he get on?"</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">The above stanzas from the poem, <em>Nancy Hanks, </em>evoked <em>A Reply to Nancy Hanks </em>by<em> </em></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Julius Silberger:</span><br /><em><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Yes, Nancy Hanks, the news we will tell</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Of your Abe whom you loved so well.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">You asked first, "Where's my son?"</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">He lives in the hearts of everyone.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Indiana has a special part in celebrating the upcoming bicentennial of Lincoln's birthday. I am privileged to have Lincoln's Boyhood Home license plates, which I special-ordered at no extra cost. Eventually they will become a part of my Indiana</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">collection.</span><br /></em>brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05500057750319032298noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164015480057627396.post-67016147825488817292008-10-04T09:29:00.000-07:002008-10-04T10:06:34.158-07:00FALL AT LAST<div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">It's fall at last! I love fall--the colors of the changing leaves, the color of the sky--</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><span style="color:#cc6600;"><strong>create "a picture that no painter has the colorin' to mock." Fall feels brisk and purposeful at times, lovely and leisurely at others. But one of my favorite things about fall is Riley's poem, <em>When the Frost is on the Punkin. </em>When I taught fourth grade, one assignment was always to memorize that poem. Then Mr. Don Hill would come to school impersonating Mr. Riley, reciting his poetry, and the place would ROCK when the fourth graders joined the recitation. I'm going to "recite" </strong></span><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">the first verse of that </span></strong><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">poem here, from memory:</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock;</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin' turkey cock,</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">And the clackin' of the guineas and the cluckin' of the hens,</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence,</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">Oh, it's then's the times a feller is afeelin' at his best</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">With the risin' sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest,</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">As he leaves the house bareheaded and goes out to feed the stock</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">I have been fortunate enough to visit Greenfield, where Riley was born,</span></strong><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;"> and where</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">the Riley Festival is celebrated each year. Later this year I hope to visit Lockerbie</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#cc6600;">Street in Indianapolis, where Mr. Riley lived and wrote his poems.</span></strong></div>brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05500057750319032298noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164015480057627396.post-52195091247591936292008-08-30T07:51:00.000-07:002008-09-02T14:25:59.991-07:001858 - 2008 & BEYOND<div align="justify">Well, it isn't Friday, but at least it is still August! Yesterday, I closed the shop at 12:30, and went up to the school for play practice for the Sesquicentennial play<em>, A Crothersville Celebration. </em>I only have a couple of lines, and then am a part of a congregation in one scene and a group of townspeople in another. The choir teacher is incredible. Our dress rehearsal is next Saturday morning, from 8-12. We get to go through the entire production. There will be two performances on Friday, September 12, one in the morning for the students, and one in thevening for the general public. I know this is going to be something our town remembers until the Bicentennial in 2058! </div><br /><div align="justify">I am also very interested in learning more about Sarah Palin, whom John McCain named as his vice-presidential running mate. I was impressed to learn that Newt Gingrich, whom I regard as an extremely intelligent and knowledgable person, had brought her name up months earlier as an individual with great potential. Politically, I am a registered Democrat, but that really makes little difference to me.</div><br /><div align="justify">Until next time,<br />BRENDA</div><br /><div align="justify">VISIT THE 'VILLE DURING THE SESQUICENTENNIAL CELEBRATION SEPTEMBER 11-14</div><br /><div align="justify"><a href="http://www.150yearsago.org/">http://www.150yearsago.org/</a></div>brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05500057750319032298noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164015480057627396.post-52698152219658176922008-08-22T08:47:00.000-07:002008-08-22T09:22:51.882-07:00Happy 150th Birthday!<div align="justify"><span style="color:#990000;"> <strong>Happy</strong> <strong>Birthday, Crothersville</strong>! Your big Sesquicentennial Celebration, marking your 150th Birthday, is September 11-14. Folks still talk about your 100th Birthday, the Centennial Celebration of 1958. Some parts of that event will be repeated this year, and several new things will be added. Congratulations on reaching this important milestone!</span></div><div align="justify"> <span style="color:#990000;">Some events will be historical, such as the re-enactments and the historical play,<em> A Crothersville Celebration.</em> The events will be instructive, old-timey, and fun. There will be contests of various sorts, and food, craft, and other booths. There will be a wonderful parade! There will be music! It is almost certain that everyone will find several activities that appeal to them. (See 150yearsago.org, for Sesquicentennial information.)</span></div><div align="justify"><span style="color:#990000;"> Hopefully, this Sesquicentennial Celebration will provide a jump-start to a bright future. The organization, CARD (Crothersville Area Revitalization and Development), will look to present and future needs once the Sesquicentennial is over. Members of CARD are excited about the opportunities for preservation, renewal, and expansion in our town. We want this to be a place where good things are happening! We don't want to focus on past problems, unless we are attempting to overcome them.</span></div>brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05500057750319032298noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164015480057627396.post-52624055605096206802008-08-20T10:20:00.000-07:002008-08-20T10:42:49.916-07:00THE MILLER, THE BOY, AND THE ASS<em>This is one of my favorites found in 1969 or '70, in a book,<strong> A Treasury of Russian Children's Verse. </strong> I had to change the layout, and I have omitted some of the repetitive lines, but the moral is the same.</em><br /><em></em><br /><strong><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">An old man, a miller, was riding an ass.</span></strong><br /><strong>His grandson was walking behind in the grass.</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>"Look! A disgrace!" was the villagers' talk.</strong><br /><strong>"Granddad is riding, but grandson must walk!"</strong><br /><br /><strong>Quickly the miller dismounted, and put</strong><br /><strong>The boy in the saddle, while he went on foot.</strong><br /><br /><strong>"Goodness, no manners!" an old woman said.</strong><br /><strong>"Age walks behind, while Youth rides ahead!"</strong><br /><br /><strong>So </strong><strong>granddad and grandson both mounted and rode.</strong><br /><strong>They came to a man who was hauling a load.</strong><br /><br /><strong>"Ugh!" said the man, "No shame, not the least!</strong><br /><strong>Two men on the back of that poor little beast!</strong><br /><br /><strong>Then granddad and grandson both went on foot.</strong><br /><strong>On grandfather's shoulders the donkey was put.</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>"Ha, ha, ha! Ho, ho, ho!" roared a man with a sack.</strong><br /><strong>"An old ass has put a young ass on his back!"</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong><em>Obviously, the moral is that you can't please everybody, but when you try, you end up making an "ass" of yourself. This old folktale is retold in verse by Samuel Marshak.</em></strong>brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05500057750319032298noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164015480057627396.post-31791980307812423922008-08-08T07:34:00.000-07:002008-08-08T08:01:23.489-07:00A Benediction<strong>And now, may the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ. . .</strong><br /> This grace in which we stand,<br /> This grace by which we have been saved through faith,<br /> This grace in which we receive mercy and help in time of need,<br /> This grace which is sufficient for us,<br /> And this grace that we must not receive in vain. . .<br /> The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ,<br /><strong>And the love of God. . .</strong><br /> A love that existed before the foundations of the world,<br /> A love that is rich in mercy,<br /> A love that makes us more than conquerors,<br /> A love that disciplines us,<br /> A love that commands us to love one another. . .<br /> The love of God,<br /><strong>And the fellowship of the Holy Spirit. . .</strong><br /> The Spirit of Truth, who dwells within us,<br /> The Spirit of Life, who has set us free,<br /> The Spirit who helps us in our weakness,<br /> In whom we are convicted of sin, righteousness, and judgment,<br /> In whom we are strengthened with power in our inner being,<br /> The fellowship of the Holy Spirit,<br /> And the love of God,<br /> And the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ,<br /><strong>Be with you all. Amen.</strong><br /><em> L. Thomas Smith, Jr., Ph. D., Professor, History & Theology</em><br /><em> Johnson Bible College, Commencement, 2008 </em><br /><em> (from the college newsletter, THE BLUE AND WHITE)</em>brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05500057750319032298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164015480057627396.post-1219300648217591702008-08-01T13:59:00.000-07:002008-08-01T14:00:23.514-07:00The Week Starts on Tuesday!The week starts on Tuesday for me! Am I short on time--No! But since I have a shop -- Aunt Samantha's -- which is open Tuesday through Saturday, Monday is part of my weekend. So today is Tuesday and my week has begun. There is usually not a lot of activity in the 'ville. But I have time to do something like this when I don't have any customers! I keep busy with assorted projects. This is my first experience in blogging, although it seems a lot like journaling which is meant to be read by anyone curious enough to check it out. Computers are still a bit of a mystery to me, but I have definitely made progress. I love to have the margins justified so they come out even on the right!brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05500057750319032298noreply@blogger.com2