Archive for May 8th, 2011

Truth is attractive to the truthful – liars like lies.

– eab, 4/29/11

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The date was approximately 1952.  The location was an eight-room frame farmhouse (plus two-room summer kitchen) on a 53 & 1/3 acre farm about two miles west of Somerset, Ohio.  The occasion was the receipt of new gray jacket for a grade school boy named Edgar.


Mom had made me several shirts from the more masculine looking feed sacks.  Feed used to come in large printed cotton sacks suitable for opening and reusing (a long time before the “popular” recycle era).  I needed a new jacket and for some “kid reason” requested one bought from a store.


Dad arrived home from work in our blue 1950 Chevy.  He brought a paper bag (bags were paper back then) marked Penny’s from the car to the house.  I was presented the bag to open.  Inside the Penny’s bag was a boy’s medium gray jacket.  Examination showed it complete with a Penny’s label on the inside of the yoke (labels used to all be on the inside – except Levi’s).


The appreciated store-bought jacket was well on its way to being worn out before my folks revealed to me that Mom had made it and sewed in a label from one of dad’s shirts.  The Mom-made jacket was then sent to town with Dad and of course, returned with him.


I could wish I could show you this gray jacket or one of the shirts.  I could wish you could taste her scrumptious potato salad – for years I could list potato salad as my favorite food.  I could wish you the experience of arriving home on a yellow bus (first-one-on, last-one-off) and entering this old eight room two-story to the smell and taste of Mom’s homemade bread.   


Sorry – a mere tale will have to suffice for a Mom-made object.

God bless this lady (born7/6/1907) for all she made for me and others.


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Today a cap for baby’s head,[1]

So neatly stitched and done with grace,

A part of his dedication,

Or to protect her small, round face.


Mom soon will pack the cap away,

With other things in baby’s case.

It will grow old and gather charm,

Ignored by life’s swiftly run race.


Tomorrow the girl will carry

Up the church aisle’s long, even pace,

Along with blue, borrowed, and new,

This old hanky with memory’s lace.


If a boy, his bride may use it,

In old tradition’s rightful place.

She may carry then, this hanky,

Full of his life, and heirloom lace.

                – eab, 5/88

[1] Written for Martha after she’d seen one like it but could not find what someone else (unknown to me) had written. 

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My mother’s hand is on my brow,
Her gentle voice is pleading now;
Across the years so marred by sin
What memories of love steal in!


O mother, when I think of thee,
’Tis but a step to Calvary;
Thy gentle hand upon my brow
Is leading me to Jesus now.

Once more I see that look of pain,
The anguish in those eyes again;
My heart is sad, for well I know
My sin has caused this bitter woe.

While others scorned me in their pride
She gently drew me to her side;
When all the world has turned away,
My mother stood by me that day.

While others scorned me in their pride
My mother’s love, my mother’s tears,
The tho’t of all her constant care
Doth bring the answer to her prayer.

I’m coming home, by sin beset,
For Jesus loves me even yet;
My mother’s love brings home to me
The greater love ofCalvary.

Robert Harkness died this date,5/8/1961atLon­don,Eng­land.  God allowed him to at­tend a re­viv­al where R. A. (Ru­ben Arch­er) Tor­rey and Charles M. Al­ex­and­er were ministering.  Hark­ness be­came the piano player for Al­ex­and­er and was converted to Jesus Christ.  (Reportedly he was converted “on a bi­cy­cle,” then an important means of transportation.  Harkness made round-the-world-tours with Tor­rey and Al­ex­and­er.  He is said to have penned over 2,000 hymns/Gos­pel songs.  Harkness was born 3/2/1880, atBen­di­go,Aus­tral­ia.

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