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The Saturday Journal: Cherokee, Crow-Callers, Shotguns and more...

He was all of five-foot nothing but you would have thought he was John Wayne. And I say that with no disrespect. He used to point to this big oak tree in our neighbor’s yard and say to me and my brothers when we “misbehaved", I don’t care if you get as big as that oak tree there, I can still “whoop” you. I don’t recall too many "whoopings" from him though.


I do remember the times he would go out in the backyard with his 12-gauge shotgun and his beloved crow-caller. Now if you’ve never seen an old-school “crow-caller”--it was a portable battery operated record player–the color of deep army green that would play only one 45-record–and it was labeled--the crow call. And mine and my brothers’ job was to place the needle on the record and when the crows came floating overhead–my Grandpa would lean back and shoot a couple of times in the air and the crows would come spiraling down to the ground. I recall this one time my Grandpa hit the ground faster than the birds. I thought he had shot himself. But not John Wayne. Getting up off the ground, his shoulder bruised and bleeding–he yelled–start the caller! And between the shotgun and the scarecrow residing proudly in our garden–our corn survived yet another season and the crows didn’t stand a chance.

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During the summer my Grandpa and Grandma would sometimes take my brothers and I on day-trips. We would all load up in the old brown Dodge Monaco–it was as wide as a bus--a tank--and it could seat at least eight people–some family trips we resembled sardines in a can more than a family out for a leisurely ride. Anyway, on this particular trip they decided we were going to Cherokee. And that’s what we did. We loaded the car early that morning–my Grandpa and Grandma in the front seat, and me and my two brothers in the back. And my Grandma made sure she brought the coffee can–for my brothers. I refused to use that tin can as a urinal. And that's all I will say about that.

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When we got to Cherokee we stopped at this amusement park. We were allowed to only ride a few rides, so we chose the boat ride first. My Grandma was totally against this. And she stood and turned her back to the pond–not to watch our demise in case the boat sank. It didn’t and we made it back safely to shore. And she was happy again.


Next it was the Tilt-a-Whirl and I remember fondly coaxing my Grandpa to ride with me. Now, he hadn’t seen this ride in action. So we took our seats and buckled in and the ride–it started slow and my Grandpa boldly yelled, this is nothing! And for any of you who have experienced this ride–you know, it does get faster. It did and John Wayne aka my Grandpa gripped onto the bar and screamed, good gosh!


On these day-trips, if we were good, we got to stop at a souvenir shop and buy a small item. None of the gift shops were memorable, so to speak except for this one time–and it just so happened to be on the Cherokee trip. My Grandpa rolled the ole Dodge into the graveled parking lot of the shop and before we were allowed to get out of the car–we were given the “talk”. You can buy one thing and you only have so much money–that’s it. No more!


We browsed around picking up all the overpriced candy–small plastic and glass treasures. And when we made our selections, we laid our prizes on the counter and the store clerk–he was probably secretly laughing before we even got out the door. My grandparents never really paid much attention to what we bought as long as our purchases were "in the budget"–until after this trip. We crawled into the car–and as any kid will do, we tore into our goodies. .Now my youngest brother–he was always the more adventurous of the three of us. And on this day, this proved even more so.


Before my Grandpa could put the tank in reverse, it happened–right there in the parking lot of the Cherokee souvenir shop. The four doors of the ole Monaco swung open in sync and the smoke rolled out of the car–almost as fast as the five of us–coughing, spitting, and spewing. My youngest brother had bought a smoke bomb–one that didn’t need igniting. I don’t recall how long we waited until we got back in the car or even what my Grandparents said. But I have always wondered if the store clerk retold our story to everyone and anyone who would listen.

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Times were different back then in many ways. But there’s one thing that hasn’t changed. God is still blessing families with grandpas and grandmas and grandchildren and memories--stories that can last a lifetime–even longer….


When my Grandpa lay dying on his bed, he wasn’t able to do much of anything besides talk and when he shared his stories, they never came without the shedding of tears and smiles. That’s what memories and stories of old will do.


Our lives are meant to be lived. They are not meant to be lived in a whirlwind–but in the small everyday moments. People are meant to be loved–stories are meant to be shared, and cherished memories are meant to be exactly that–cherished.


There’s a clock ticking down for all of us–there’s no rewinding and adding more days–hours, minutes, or even seconds. Only God knows. And this fact of life is not to be considered as sadness or even the fear of living–but as a reminder to ask ourselves--and ask often--how are we spending our time and who with? Just who are we living for? What are we doing for others in service and in love? And most importantly, are we living for a life beyond the grave?


Life on this earth is a short journey. A home in heaven with Jesus is not. It's everlasting and that is His promise--the promise of eternity.


Psalm 90:12

So teach us to number our days, That we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.


Romans 10:9-13

That if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved. For with the heart man believeth unto righteousness; and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation. For the scripture saith, Whosoever believeth on him shall not be ashamed. For there is no difference between the Jew and the Greek: for the same Lord over all is rich unto all that call upon him. For whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved.


John 3:16

For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life. For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through Him might be saved.



A humble thank you for reading the The Saturday Journal

My hopes are to share The Saturday Journal every Saturday or at least bi-weekly--but always on Saturday.

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THE SATURDAY JOURNAL

GRACE. BEAUTY. GRATITUDE.


 
 
 

1 Comment


winglerka
Jul 16, 2023

Thank you so much! I absolutely loved the pictures! Your stories always come to life with your words!

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