LITTLE BOY TRUCKS..BIG BOY MEMORIES…

IMG_0039Days of fun in sand and snow;

 Cherished childhood toys.

Imaginary roads to grade…

Fun for little boys.

Found beneath the Christmas tree

Or as a birthday present,

Making Christmas merry…

 Hours of play more pleasant.

Now safely resting on a shelf,

Bright colors on display,

Grown construction engineers

Enjoy them still, today.

God bless the men who build the roads

And make our highways last.

  Who’s to say the yellow trucks

Are now things of the past?

Sons and daughters, grand-kids too,

Can see the love that shows

When Grandpa shares his Tonka toys

With thoughts of long ago.

 

Memories Are Made From This…

Mary Anne Whitchurch Tuck

[email protected]

memoriesaremadefromthis.com

 

 

 

FOX IN THE HENHOUSE

I rested my elbows on the windowsill and videoed away..so to speak.

Not exactly in the henhouse..

I can’t tell you how upset I am with myself.

It’s been at least three years since I’ve seen a fox in the neighborhood. This morning at quarter to 7 I looked out the “next to my computer” window and there he was. It was only starting to get daylight and there was always the possibility the photo wouldn’t finish well. But, I took it anyway. In fact, I took several shots and the one above is the only one that worked.

That’s not the end of the world”, I said to myself.

Just then large flocks of Canadian geese began to fly over the far hay field in preparation to land and feed. They were making a great deal of noise, as only the large flocks of geese may do, and I immediately set my camera to video. By this time, the sky had become light and the view from my camera lense was perfect. I rested my elbows on the windowsill and videoed away..so to speak. What an exciting opportunity for me. The flocks circled the fields three times, honking and calling all the way. One portion of their flight passed very close to my home.

Eventually, I decided to work with my pictures and see what I had accomplished. There were pictures taken yesterday and I saved the ones that were good. There weren’t many. The photo above, of the fox, was the best I had on the camera.

The videos require me to send them to a different place on my computer, so I decided to delete the still pics and the videos to work with later.

After marking each photo for deletion I arrived at the place where it says, “delete all?”, and I said “yes”.

And I did…delete all..that is.

My camera is empty. I wanted so much to share with all of you the wonderful videos I had made of the geese, sound and all.

They’ve been deleted.

Maybe they’ll fly by another day. Maybe they won’t. But take my word for it, those videos were really something else.

Now they’re “somewhere else”.

End of story.

Mary Anne Whitchurch Tuck

[email protected]

MEMORY FIXER UPPER

Persistence pays..

Think about it!

No comment…

Listening closely to commercials, occasionally gives me food for thought, but not often.

I need to hear one many times before the substance finally sinks into my thoughts.

Today, this commercial got my undivided attention.

Apparently, a certain pill “can” help to make old folks, like me, remember things better. It is highly recommended by “pharmacists”. Did you get that?

PHARMACISTS.

Of course it is!

No comment was given by the medical society. No comment given by those who may have used it and remembered where they left their glasses. No comment by old friends who suddenly remembered the name of their kindergarten teacher in 1940. No comment was offered by my former neighbor who recommended it to me but couldn’t remember the name on the bottle she kept in her cupboard.

( Actually, she couldn’t remember which cupboard she kept it in either.)

I certainly don’t want to discourage anyone from taking this remarkable antidote (or is it anecdote?) regarding loss of memory brought on by the aging process.

Now, what was I saying?

No comment!

Mary Anne Whitchurch Tuck

[email protected]

ANGELS CAME IN A SONG

It was the perfect message in a time of sadness.

The gymnasium was filled to capacity when we arrived. Two large blocks of chairs, with an aisle between, faced the lonely casket.

Chairs were filled with friends and family. It seemed best, for us, to sit in the bleachers.

Row upon row of floral arrangements had been placed on tiered shelving, occupying an area the length of the gym. Local florists had been asked to stop delivering orders since there was no more space for display.

Moments before the appointed hour of the service, a group of young men began to arrive. Neatly groomed in white shirts and jeans, carrying their hats, the young rodeo men quietly took their seats near the back of the congregation.

His name and date of birth were printed on the program. Nineteen short years on earth and today we were mourning his passing.

Riding chaps lay draped over the casket. A large painting of the deceased was placed at the side.

Travis was a rodeo man.

On his way to Alabama to compete in his specialties of Team Roping and Saddle Bronc riding, he was tragically killed while driving through the state of Kentucky.

Tired and excited about the next event, he asked his friend to drive while he rested his head against the back of the seat. As he slept they came upon an 18-wheeler parked on the side of the road. Too late to react, their truck veered off the road and lodged underneath the semi.

The friend survived the crash. Travis did not.

I am usually in control of my emotions at funerals. My husband and grandson were attending this sad occasion with me. Our grandson was, at that time, a bull rider in the rodeo circuit. Knowing the potential for injury and death, our love and concern for him and for these young men was strong.

For them, the excitement and the challenge outweigh the potential danger.

I was determined to control my emotions.

Near the end of the service, the Dad and Mom of the young man quietly approached the casket. A song I’d never heard before, was played through the sound system.

It was the perfect message in a time of sadness. There are angels among us. I hope you take the time to listen to this song.

Angels Among Us by Alabama

[email protected]

Mary Anne Whitchurch Tuck

JUST CALL IT HORSE SENSE

It has always seemed unusual to me that a horse named Mable will win a race in which a horse named Star Of Glory will come in six lengths behind.

AMERICAN LITERATURE ASSIGNMENT….1952

Mary Anne Whitchurch….10th Grade High School…

West Branch, Michigan

I am intrigued by the names of race horses.

My observation has been, the most beautiful names are given to the plain horses while the most beautiful horses get the stupid names.

For instance, you will notice such beautiful names as Show Boy, Black Beauty, Silver Star, Arabian Knight and Princess Ann are attached to the old plug who can pick up only three of its feet.

Then, of course, there is Beetlebaum.

On the other hand, a really beautiful and fast race horse, who leaves all the others in the dust, is named Blackie, Dutch, King, or Major.

Then, of course, there is Beetlebaum.

It has always seemed unusual to me that a horse named Mable will win a race in which a horse named Star Of Glory will come in six lengths behind.

Meet Chris…Full name..Christian..A beautiful horse

I don’t know how Beetlebaum entered this little story although it seems to be a good name. I wish he would leave the same way he came in.

***

To continue…………It is now 2019…I’m surprised (at the age of 84) how many people don’t remember Beetlebaum. However, as times change and so do we, I can now share “him” with you. Spike Jones will tell you the story.

[email protected]

THE WRONG CHOICE HAS A PRICE

HE WENT TO THE SYNAGOGUE, AS WAS HIS CUSTOM….

As a young girl, I was asked to baby sit for my infant nephew while my sister and her husband went out for the evening.

The child had a slight cold. My sister’s instructions were to give him a spoon full of cough medicine from a bottle she had placed on the kitchen counter.

When it was time to give him the medicine, I picked up the bottle, poured the liquid into a spoon and offered it to the baby; not bothering to turn on the light. The baby coughed and cried. He choked and spit out most of the medicine on his pajamas. I didn’t feel it was an unusual response to bad tasting medicine. Turning on the kitchen light to assess the situation, I saw another bottle sitting on the counter.

Reading the label on the bottle I had used, it was suddenly clear the liquid I had given the baby was Tincture of Benzine Compound, a substance used in vaporizers for the easing of breathing problems. The cough medicine, which I had been instructed to give, was in a second bottle on the counter, which was not noticeable to me in the darkened kitchen.

I was devastated that this baby I loved so much could have been poisoned by my irresponsible action. (He was fine and suffered no ill effects from my carelessness.) (see note at bottom of article)

Because of that experience, I’ve adopted a discipline that has served me (and others) throughout my life. Never administer, nor take, medication without first checking the bottle’s ingredients and directions, in the light.

This custom has served me well.

I’ve been thinking. When the habit of attending church becomes customary to us, we are ready to live, worship and praise. We are able to love and be loved, to listen and share His word within the congregation of Christ on Sunday morning. We are not burdened with a weekly decision.

This custom serves us well.

When we make a decision to be in a study group with other Christians, on Sunday morning or another time during the week, we place ourselves in a position to grow. We are in a position to incorporate the meaning of His Word into our lives.

It becomes our custom.

Jesus gave us the example by His own life. “He went to the synagogue, as was His custom”….Are your customs serving you well?

Are your customs serving Him well?

The answer may save your life.

Lord, teach us your ways. Shine your light on us. Help us to develop customs that will allow us to be used by you in your ministries..Amen

(Note: My “infant” nephew is now 67 years of age..enjoying retirement and a happy life.)

I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER – HALLMARK KNOWS HOW TO SAY IT FOR YOU….

As often happens in life, my future was unknown.  I couldn’t have imagined at the age of 50, I would become the owner and operator of Mary Anne’s Hallmark Shoppe.

Holiday of Love…

 Houghton Lake Resorter

Houghton Lake, Michigan

(Weekly Newspaper)

1963

 

February, the month of sweethearts and historical birthdays.  Gifts and cards are abundantly given and received.

  Red is the color of this holiday of love. It represents the warmth and caring which doesn’t end by the passing of time nor the graying of crowns.  From grade school parties to a valentine for the teacher, the bloom of romance,the joy of marriage, or an annual pledge of sentimental thoughts,  moments of love and friendship are conveyed through the verse on the card.

From a commercial standpoint, the greeting card industry prospers from every holiday.

(Talk to a Hallmark dealer and they will tell you Valentine’s Day is the best card selling season of the year.)

  Some holidays have been long standing, while others have been more recently incorporated into the lives of the public.

The card purchaser sends a card of congratulations for many celebrations.  From birth to graduation, from weddings to anniversaries, from operations to get well cards, there is a card suitable for every occasion.

Are your friends leaving town or have they just arrived? Has someone recently purchased a new home or remodeled the one which they already own? Hallmark has a perfect card for the occasion.

Good wishes can be found in the card shop in just the language you want to use.

Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Christmas and the New Year rate high on the holiday card list. As the years go on, St. Valentine’s Day will remain the sentimental favorite.

Send a card or a gift, the affectionate gesture is always thoughtful and pleasantly received.

To Mom and Dad, friend and lover, children and neighbors,

Happy Valentine’s Day 1963.

*  *  *  *  *

2019

Looking Back…

My thoughts were penned in 1963.

I was twenty- eight years old, a stay at home Mom with three little boys.  The youngest was one year old.

My life was closer to Valentine’s Day grade school parties than to browsing through a Hallmark shop looking for the perfect card to send to family and friends.

As often happens in our young lives, my future was unknown.  I couldn’t have imagined at the age of 50, I would become the owner and operator of

Mary Anne’s Hallmark Shoppe.

  For thirteen years I observed my caring customers. They took the process very seriously.  Choosing the perfect card with just the right sentiments, for their loved ones, was what they were seeking.

Valentine’s Day is truly the most heartfelt card sending day of all the celebrated holidays during the year.

My most intensely involved customer was the gentleman choosing a card for his wife or sweetheart.  No amount of time spent was too much, when choosing that card with a special message of their love.  Valentine’s Day will always be

“A HOLIDAY OF LOVE”.

[email protected]

Photos By Mary Anne Whitchurch Tuck

memoriesaremadefromthis.com

 

https://thatremindsme.blog

DRUNKS OR HEROES?

My husband and I were standing at our living room window, watching a man walking down the distant road. The man lived nearby in a broken down house.  Every day he walked two miles to a neighborhood bar where he spent his time.

 

“Night fell, darkness hid the two from sight”

He worked at walking.

Stumbling, weaving, tumbling, falling…

Each night at dusk he headed home, deaf to traffic sounds.

 Reeling into roadside ditch, he lay upon the ground in bleak half-conscious stupor.

With effort, he crawled laboriously to the ditch’s edge, then worked at walking once again.  The man continued through his nightly ritual.

 A friend approached the sodden hulk;  bending down, he knelt beside the fallen man.  With steady arms, the friend began THE RESCUE.

 The friend was not a hero.  I was a bystander.  Though years have passed, the vivid scene remains.

 Whose life was changed?  Whose journey reached a crossroad?  Whose path was interrupted by a chance encounter?  Was it the man?  Was it the friend?  Was it me?

 What are you thinking now?

 Night fell. Darkness hid the two from sight.

 THE RESCUE had begun.

 [email protected]

 * * * * * * * *

Many years have passed since this incident took place.

 My husband and I were standing at our living room window, watching a man walking down the distant road. The man lived nearby in a broken down house.  Each day he walked two miles to a neighborhood bar where he spent his time.

 We didn’t usually see him traveling on the way to his daily destination. Nor did we see him when he was going home.  But this day, we saw him walking home.  As we watched, he staggered and stumbled, falling into the deep ditch beside the road.

For moments he was out of our sight.  Then, we saw him crawling out of the ditch and struggling to his feet.  Walking a few steps, he fell once more. Once more, he crawled up the side of the ditch on his hands and knees and attempted to stand.

 I became aware my husband had left my side. Now, in his truck, he was driving down our driveway toward the distant road.  I saw him stop at the place where the man was lying beside the ditch. Getting out of his truck, he approached the figure.

 Taking him by the arm, he helped the man to his feet.

 My husband later told me he intended to help the man into the cab of the truck, but he protested.  “I’m not clean enough to sit in your truck.  Help me into the back.  I’ll ride home there.”

 As this scene unfolded before my eyes, I was surely not aware it would be in my memory and my heart many years later.

 How many of us, including me, would leave the comfort of our own home to help a drunken, smelly man get safely to his home?

 This was a view of my husband about which I wasn’t aware.  Yes, he was kind, gentle and caring.  The scene I watched was more than that.

 The experience changed me.  Maybe it has changed you.

 At this stage of life it has become clear to me, we all need to be rescued.

Our Friend is on His way.

————–

 In later years, as we discussed the incident, facts revealed themselves about the man who was rescued.

 He was a veteran from World War 2.

 As years have passed, we’ve become aware of the experiences our soldiers endured during that time of war. 

They were too  horrible to remember.

 We now call it PTSD.

 It has been found, for some of the veterans, it is easier to drink away the memories than to relive them in their minds.

 In our village, there were three World War 2 veterans who spent their days at the same local bar.  The world called them drunks. Should we call them heroes?

 How do you feel about it?

memoriesaremadefromthis.com

SHOW ME AN EAGLE..

ODD YOU SHOULD MENTION IT. I JUST SAW ONE…

Sun is shining; Sky is blue,

Everyone’s busy, free moments few.
Economy’s rising,  dollar holds true.
 

I Saw An EAGLE Today

 
Church pews half empty, more folks at the store.
Few cars on the highway,
Been here before.
 

I Saw An EAGLE Today

 
Some feel lonely this time of  year.
Laughter and family, for them, disappear.
Doesn’t seem right without happiness here.
 

I Saw An EAGLE Today

 
Why does it seem like today passed me by?
Yesterday’s memories cannot tell me why.
 
Tomorrow will bring me another blue sky.
 
 

I Saw An EAGLE Today!

Today, as I left the church service
My eyes were drawn to the sky. 
At that moment an American Bald Eagle flew over me.
Those who know me have often heard me say, 
“Any day I see an eagle, is a perfect day for me.”

The day wore on, blue moments overtook me.
Time and again the picture in my mind
Was that of the soaring American Eagle.

Early evening approached.
It was then that I realized
 I’d had the perfect day
Thanks to that beautiful moment this morning.

“I saw an eagle today.”

 
copyright©2018
Photography By Mary Anne Tuck
 
memoriesaremadefromthis.com
 

SHE LEFT ME WITH A MEMORY…

Remembering Mary

They appeared just before the service began.

 He carried a small pillow under his arm. 
 I wondered why.

 Together they sat in the front pew, listening attentively.

 One Sunday, as the service ended, Mary’s husband stood to leave.
 The pillow he had carried under his arm now lay on the church pew
where he had placed it.It showed two dents from his hipbones.

 A World War 1 veteran,
 Don had been gassed during the time of his service
 to our country. 
He was frail and attentive and attended the worship service with Mary
 every Sunday. 

I would never have known Mary
 had it not been for attending the same church as she and her husband, Don.
She was a faithful worshiper

Together, the two entered the sanctuary each Sunday.

 Leaving quietly without conversation, 
they offered a nod and smiles
 to those who greeted them.

Mary was a tall woman.
 On Sunday morning, she was always attired in her Sunday best.

 In winter, a bandanna around her head
 saved her from the cold and rain. 
Old-fashioned rubber boots protected her from the elements
 when necessary.

 

Mary would never know the lasting impression
 she made on my life, and surely on the lives of others.
 Her faithful love of the Lord, deep affection for her husband and two sons, and respect for the flag of our country was a lesson for many if they would only observe.

She never served on a committee at church, but attended every meeting. Having no vehicle,
 she walked the distance to the meetings
 from her home,
 a mile away at that time.

 One special meeting was scheduled to discuss the building of a new church. 
It was held on a summer evening.
 We gathered in the basement of our old church,
 and Mary was there.

The idea of our small congregation taking on this large project had been discussed for some time.
 During a moment of quiet in the meeting,
Mary reached in her old worn purse, pulling out a wrinkled bill.
 As she laid  it on the table, she said,

“There’s your first dollar”.
 The project was underway.

One January morning, 
church services were cancelled due to a blizzard.
 It was dangerous to ask the parishioners to venture into the storm.

I felt warm and cozy 
as I sat in my living room
 watching only a few cars driving down the highway.

Then I saw Mary.

 She was walking toward church, 
carrying her Bible.
 The ever present cold weather scarf 
was tied under her chin.
 Her long wool coat now offered protection from the blowing snow.
 I felt ashamed.
 I didn’t live as far from the church as Mary.

 I had a car.
Mary was walking.
I was relaxing in my nice warm house.
 The scene has stayed with me for many years.

Recalling another dreary day, as I was driving home,
 I saw Mary walking in the heavy rain.
Carrying her Bible, she was heading toward home.

 I stopped to give her a ride and asked her where she’d been. 
“I was at a Bible study at the church”, she said.

 As she climbed out of the car in front of her house,
 the rain was increasingly heavy. Thanking me for the ride, she walked over to their flag pole. Carefully retrieving our American flag from the pouring rain,
she folded it, and took it into her home.

Mary’s  favorite saying was; 
“God knows all about it!”

Reverend Jim once commented,
 “If it were possible to ride into heaven on someone’s coattails, 
I’d choose Mary.”

 

I hoped that Mary would have enough room on those coattails
 for me.

“God resists the proud, but gives grace to the humble”
(1 Peter 5:5 NKJV)

Unattractive,

    Uneducated,

          Uninformed.

Not practiced at correctness,

  Mary lived her life     

One

Simple

Uncomplicated day

At a time.

Never indulging in self-satisfaction,

Nor pursued by dreams of personal success,

Her simple life was unadorned with expectations.

Knowing no pretense

Mary cast her lot

With God.

God first

Love

Worship

Prayer

Service

Family second

Love 

Prayer

Care 

Service

Country third

Love

Service

Prayer

Respect

No unexpected event

No shortfall

No misfortune

Could cause her simple faith

To waver.

“God knows all about it,” Mary would say,

With a countenance that displayed

Unflappable peace.

Her life was uneventful

Her faith unshakable.

Her example unforgettable.

Never doubting the unquenchable supply

Of God’s love and care,

Mary lived to the fullest

The abundant life

Of a saint.

Her legacy to those who knew her

Was a trail of unerring discipleship

On her way to eternal life with God.

March 31, 1996

copyright©2018

Photographs By Mary Anne Tuck

memoriesaremadefromthis.com