Blaine and his Portsmouth OH reminiscing... Thanks young Mr. Bierley!

No, Blaine, but thanks for doing it now. I don't think you will mind if I include it in my SamKat blog today- www.skegley.blogspot.com.




I turned 75 on November 13, 2007, five years ahead of you. My good friend, Ronnie Walters (PHS 51) will be 77, this year, just a year younger than me. I mention Ronnie for two reasons; 1- his birthday coming up, and 2- in a recent reminiscence of mine of all of our friends up and down and near McConnell Ave. and Vinton, I forgot to mention him and, as one of my best friends, I never ever should have forgotten to mention Ronnie.



I share so much of your things and, of course, we both shared the "Cultral Center of Our Universe- Portsmouth, Ohio. Now, that is culture if Tom Sawyer ever had any, isn't it?



You are good, Blaine and I always appreciate you and your writing!



Sam





----- Original Message -----

From: Blaine Bierley

To: Sam Kegley

Sent: Thursday, October 21, 2010 06:26

Subject: Did I send this to you?





“A Bit of Reflection”





There are those landmarks in your life. I think I have a pretty good grasp of what they are. I believe they are when you start elementary school, when you become a teenager, when you go on your first date, when you graduate from high school, when you get your first “real” job, when you get married, when your first child is born, and, perhaps, the ultimate, when you turn 70.





I hit that one on December 30, 2007. I had been retired for twelve years at that point in my life. I have lived in eight decades and in two different centuries. I believe I was born at just about the perfect time. One of my earliest memories is listening to the radio. I grew up listening to shows like “Amos ‘n’ Andy”, “Duffy’s Tavern”, “Edgar Bergan and Charlie McCarthy”, “Mr. Keen, Tracer of Lost Persons”, “Smilin’ Ed’s Buster Brown Gang”, and “Suspense.” I believe I developed my imagination during those years. The first TV set I ever saw was at a neighbor’s house. The screen was small, and the station in Huntington, West Virginia, was only on a few hours a day. The kids in the neighborhood would gather together to watch first the Test Pattern and then enjoy the likes of “Howdy Doody” and “Space Cadets”.





The best part of those times was playing with friends in the Woodrow Wilson Elementary School neighborhood. We would play baseball at the park down at Labold Field in the spring and summer and switch to tackle football in the fall. We also enjoyed flying kites, riding our bicycles, and fishing in the Ohio River. Good old Boy Scout Troop 22 at the First Nazarene Church on Brown Street provided a great education for a young boy.







I was 13 when I got my first “real” job. I helped Jake Lovenguth, our Ideal Milk Company route man, deliver milk (in glass bottles) on Saturdays over across the U. S. Grant Bridge in South Portsmouth and Greenup, Kentucky.





Some of my favorite places were: the Maple Grove Confectionery, down at the end of Jackson Avenue where it intersects with Offner Street, where you could get a great sno cone in the summertime for only a dime. Mr. Book’s store (“As you go by, don’t go by, stop by and buy”) on Jackson Avenue, which had a huge selection of comic books on a big wall rack. Mr. and Mrs. Bard’s little store at the intersection of Charles and Brown Streets, where people bought their candy, cigarettes, and the Sunday News. It was the drop off spot for the Portsmouth Times’ route in our neighborhood of Charles and Williams Streets and Jackson Avenue. There was also the C & Bi (“See & Buy”) Shoppe on Jackson Avenue where you could get a fountain Coke and the representative from the Duncan Yo Yo Company would carve your initials in the yo yo if you bought one there.





Most any white kid growing up in Portsmouth in the early 1950s would happily remember the Terrace Club below the Kendall Avenue hill, where you could swim all day for a quarter or so. On our way home from the swimming pool, before we walked over the Harmon Street Viaduct, we would stop at Bill Ginnetti’s Blue Pig Inn on Gallia Street for a frozen mug of wonderful A & W root beer for only a nickel.





It would be impossible not to remember the great downtown Portsmouth movie theaters of our era, all on Gallia Street, that influenced our growing up: the Lyric, the Columbia, and the LaRoy. They had wonderful Saturday matinees with both popcorn and movie candy available to eat.







I went to Wilson School for eight years. I walked to and from school four times a day, every day. We played on a boy/girl segregated black-topped playground, and the supervising teacher rang a large hand-held bell when it was time for us to come in from recess. We had great teachers at Wilson. Our principal, R. J. Brooker, brooked no nonsense when it came to discipline at the school, and he was also a great science teacher.





Looking back at spending four years at Portsmouth High School (I graduated in 1955) forces me to admit that it was an exceptional school. We had, for the most part, dedicated faculty and administrators, intelligent students, exceptional athletes, and a supporting community. To this day, I count myself fortunate to have attended PHS.

Blaine Bierley

Between Heaven and hell... Thanks Marge Rusnak!

This is a very important twist to a very old story, Marge, and don't we both know how important it is to select the right thing.




Sam

----- Original Message -----

Sent: Wednesday, October 20, 2010 22:06

Subject: Fwd: Between heaven & hell this one will really grab you!!










Between heaven & hell









While walking down the street one day a Corrupt Senator was tragically hit by a car and died.



His soul arrives in heaven and is met by St. Peter at the entrance.



"Welcome to heaven," says St. Peter. "Before you settle in, it seems there is a problem. We seldom see a high official around these parts, you see, so we're not sure what to do with you."



"No problem, just let me in," says the Senator.



"Well, I'd like to, but I have orders from the higher ups. What we'll do is have you spend one day in hell and one in heaven. Then you can choose where to spend eternity."



"Really?, I've made up my mind. I want to be in heaven," says the Senator.



"I'm sorry, but we have our rules."



And with that, St. Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to hell.



The doors open and he finds himself in the middle of a green golf course. In the distance is a clubhouse and standing in front of it are all his friends and other politicians who had worked with him.



Everyone is very happy and in evening dress. They run to greet him, shake his hand, and reminisce about the good times they had while getting rich at the expense of the people.

They played a friendly game of golf and then dine on lobster, caviar and the finest champagne.



Also present is the devil, who really is a very friendly guy who is having a good time dancing and telling jokes.



They are all having such a good time that before the Senator realizes it, it is time to go.



Everyone gives him a hearty farewell and waves while the elevator rises.



The elevator goes up, up, up and the door reopens in heaven where St. Peter is waiting for him, "Now it's time to visit heaven...”



So, 24 hours passed with the Senator joining a group of contented souls moving from cloud to cloud, playing the harp and singing. They have a good time and, before he realizes it, the 24 hours have gone by and St. Peter returns.



"Well, then, you've spent a day in hell and another in heaven. Now choose your eternity."



The Senator reflects for a minute, then he answers: "Well, I would never have said it before, I mean heaven has been delightful, but I think I would be better off in hell."



So St. Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to hell...



Now the doors of the elevator open and he's in the middle of a barren land covered with waste and garbage. He sees all his friends, dressed in rags, picking up the trash and putting it in black bags as more trash falls to the ground.



The devil comes over to him and puts his arm around his shoulders.



"I don't understand," stammers the Senator. "Yesterday I was here and there was a golf course and clubhouse, and we ate lobster and caviar, drank champagne, and danced and had a great time. Now there's just a wasteland full of garbage and my friends look miserable. What happened?"



The devil smiles at him and says,



"Yesterday we were campaigning, Today, you voted.."



Vote wisely on November 2, 2010

MORE IMPORTANTLY THAN VOTING FOR THE ELECTION (WHICH IS IMPORTANT) IS REALIZING AND THINKING ABOUT WHERE YOU WILL ACTUALLY SPEND ETERNITY!



Is God calling you? Are you willing to follow Him? Don't ignore His call!

The Wooden Bowl... Thanks Patricia Richards Whitehead (PHS 50)

This great recycle is one of my very favorites.  A few years ago, soon after our young granddaughter, Tobey, saw it she sent me a sweet email saying, among other loving things:  "Grandpa, You will never have to use a wooden bowl. I will take care of you."  None of us want our kids to take care of us as we age, although I can remember many households when I grew up where older parents were living with their offspring and it seemed to work out well.  The oldsters were just important members of the family.

My mother's mother, Mary Clark, widow to Abraham Clark, lived with us for several years before she died and I remember her as one of the sweetest people in this world.  She neither ever scolded me nor my siblings.  I know where my mother, Mary, got her sweetness.

Thanks Pat!




Sent: Wed, October 20, 2010 11:51:13 AM

Subject: Fw: The Wooden Bowl





This has been around before but thought it was worth sending again for some of you that may not have seen it.



Subject: The Wooden Bowl



The Wooden Bowl



The Wooden Bowl

I guarantee you will remember the tale of the Wooden Bowl tomorrow, a week from now, a month from now, a year from now.

A frail old man went to live with his son, daughter-in-law, and four-year-old grandson.

The old man's hands trembled, his eyesight was blurred, and his step faltered

The family ate together at the table. But the elderly grandfather's shaky hands and

failing sight made eating difficult. Peas rolled off his spoon onto the floor.

When he grasped the glass, milk spilled on the tablecloth.

The son and daughter-in-law became irritated with the mess.

'We must do something about father,' said the son.

'I've had enough of his spilled milk, noisy eating, and food on the floor..'

So the husband and wife set a small table in the corner.

There, Grandfather ate alone while the rest of the family enjoyed dinner.

Since Grandfather had broken a dish or two, his food was served in a wooden bowl.

When the family glanced in Grandfather's direction, sometimes he had a tear in his eye as he sat alone.

Still, the only words the couple had for him were sharp admonitions when he dropped a fork or spilled food.

The four-year-old watched it all in silence.

One evening before supper, the father noticed his son playing with wood scraps on the floor.

He asked the child sweetly, 'What are you making?' Just as sweetly, the boy responded,

'Oh, I am making a little bowl for you and Mama to eat your food in when I grow up.

' The four-year-old smiled and went back to work.

The words so struck the parents so that they were speechless. Then tears started to stream down their cheeks. Though no word was spoken, both knew what must be done..

That evening the husband took Grandfather's hand and gently led him back to the family table.

For the remainder of his days he ate every meal with the family... And for some reason,

neither husband nor wife seemed to care any longer when a fork was dropped, milk spilled, or the tablecloth soiled.