Tag Archives: Family Life

How We Met~Part 1

5 Oct

SUNDAY MEMORIES

Judy Wills

JUDY

Wow…….to think back all those 56+ years ago to how Fred and I met……..I really have to stretch my memory. Do you know how much fun it is to look back at those times? It’s almost like living them again. I was in my junior year of high school.

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I belonged to a Baptist organization call BHiU – as in Baptist High (school) Union. If you are at all familiar with Baptist organizations on a college campus, you might be familiar with BSU – Baptist Student Union. It was the same thing, just on a high school level. We met in a church not far from my high school, and kids from Baptist churches around the area that went to that school met there before classes one morning each week. It was mostly Bible study and testimonies. Anything inspirational to help us get through the day and week in public school.

Being an officer in my group, I had been invited to attend a BSU meeting on the local college campus – the University of New Mexico(UNM). As we were gathered in the room, I remember someone asking, “Where’s Fred Wills? He said he would be here.” And then someone else said, “He’ll be here – oh! here he is now.” I remember seeing him come in and sit down. That was my first glimpse of him. But I didn’t remember him.

The next year, all of us that were seniors in the BHiU were invited to attend the state-wide BSU convention. It was during a long weekend. This particular year, it was being held in the town of Portales (por-TAL-es), New Mexico, (peanut capitol of NM) about a four-hour drive from Albuquerque. We stayed in a hotel near ENMU – Eastern New Mexico University, and held our meetings in a conference room in the hotel.

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As it turned out, Fred and I rode in the same car together with others from Albuquerque. We all got settled into our rooms and had the first meeting that evening. Then, since Fred’s parents were stationed at Cannon AFB in Clovis, NM, just 18 miles away from Portales, about 10 of us piled into the car and drove that distance, to take Fred to his family’s home. We all then piled out of the car and traipsed into their house, and we got to meet his family.

 

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Oh yes, one little tidbit I forgot to mention – since there were 10 of us in the car – we had to double up. And yep – I sat on his lap all those 18 miles! I think by the time we were at Cannon, I had decided that this was someone I wanted to date!

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~To Be Continued~~~~~~~~~~

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Do You Read Self-Help Books

29 Sep

My Take

DiVoran Lites

 

Author, Poet and ArtistIt’s confession time. Raise your hands if you like to read self-help books. I see not many of you have them up. Mine would be, though, if I didn’t have to keep my fingers on the keys. Yep, whether it’s The Power of Positive Thinking, by Norman Vincent Peale, or How to Win Friends and Influence People, by Dale Carnegie, I love a good, well- written, intelligent self-help book. Some of the more modern ones I’ve read have been Inspired and Unstoppable, by Tama Kieves, and A Course in Miracles, which, not knowing that it majors on Jesus Christ and His Atonement, I avoided for years. I’m so glad I read them all. The list would reach all the way back to Atlas Shrugged, by Ayn Rand, and The Feminine Mystique, which patrons recommended when I was working as a stylist for Magic Mirror Beauty Salons in Inglewood California.

Even now, I could give you the central idea from each book because they changed my life for the better. When I was a young mother I read Dr. Spock. I lived in that metropolis which is Los Angeles and had no one to tell me what to do with a brand new baby. In subsequent years we heard a lot of complaining about that one, but not everyone who criticized it had actually read it. Our children turned out so well, I was grateful for it. When I became a Christian I liked Dr. James Dobson’s books on child rearing. I’ve read books on psychiatry and psychology, religion, and Christianity, cooking, and cleaning. I’ve read How to dress, how to write journals, poems, novels and memoir. I couldn’t begin to tell you all the books I’ve read.

One that really stands out is, A Christian’s Secret of a Happy Life, by Hannah Whitehall Smith. I’d recommend that one to anyone who wants to live a truly happy Christian life.

Long ago, I decided that I needed a standard for all these books. Oh, it wouldn’t matter, maybe about the cooking ones, but I wanted a solid philosophy to measure ideas against. I decided on the Holy Bible and it has never failed to keep me on track. I’ve read it over in many different translations and in different ways, such as topical studies, memorization, verse comparisons, and as straight story.

I majored for a semester to become a media specialist so I could work in a school library. It seemed people in the library world did not believe in censorship. That was a change for me, because I’d always been told in one way or another which books I could read and which ones I couldn’t. Books exist that could lead a person in the wrong direction, that’s for sure, but in general, I’m now of the opinion that I can read what I want because my wants are lined up with those of the Master.

I can’t imagine where I’d be if I hadn’t had all those wonderful and interesting books to read. It has been my major education and I’m deeply grateful for the much needed healing they have brought to me and to the ones I love because they have changed me for the better.

The one thing I’m seeing now is that I can read synopses and blurbs and decide whether I need that book or not. For a while, I was interested in various religious practices that show you how to live in the present, how to seek angels, etc. But I’ve found a wonderful secret now, I can short circuit all the hard work, study, meditation, that comes with that sort of thing and just ask Jesus to tell me the truth about anything and he puts thoughts in my head that because of my acquaintance with the Bible, I know are true, right, and good. These thoughts set things straight for me in a miraculous way and I thank the Lord Jesus Christ and His Spirit for being there for me.

 

John 8:23

You will know the Truth, and the Truth will set you free

 

Surfers

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Daddy an Me

28 Sep

SUNDAY MEMORIES

Judy Wills

JUDY

 

Our family moved to Albuquerque, New Mexico, when I was nearly four years old. We moved so my Dad could take on the position of New Mexico Sunday School Secretary for the New Mexico Baptist Convention. He traveled a lot around the state, either starting up new Sunday Schools in churches in other towns, or encouraging the existing Sunday Schools. It was a job he absolutely loved to do, and was very good at it.

He was also responsible for setting up what were called “summer missionaries.”. That is, college students from around the state would come to Albuquerque to be “trained” in conducting Vacation Bible School, and then would go to different churches around the state for a week or so doing just that. It was a life-changing time for a lot of those college students – as well as for the children they interacted with.

The New Mexico Baptist Convention headquarters was in Albuquerque, and that’s where Daddy’s office was.

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All of the leaders (called Secretaries) of Baptist interests were in that building. One lady, Eva Inlow, was involved with women’s ministries. Her father had been quite involved with Baptist work in the state for many years, and he had established a summer camp for children/young people in the mountains about two hours out of town. They named it after her father: Inlow Youth Camp. I spent many summers there, usually anywhere from two to four weeks each summer. My brother said he did, as well. It was a great place to have fun and learn stuff, and get close to God. I have so many fond memories of my time there.

In going through some old photos recently, I came upon the following two pictures, taken at Inlow. It was in 1949 when Daddy and I were on this horse. Unfortunately, I don’t have any memory of it. But, obviously, Daddy and I took a horse ride together. Looks like we were both having fun together! He grew up on a farm, so I suspect he knew how to handle a horse.

Daddy and me on the horse. Mother in the doorway behind us

Daddy and me on the horse. Mother in the doorway behind us

 

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While I don’t have any memory of this event, I do have some wonderful memories of being at Inlow Youth Camp. I remember meeting new people there. I remember as a teenager going with a group of other teens from my church. I guess we, essentially, grew up at that camp. The mountain scene was great – the air was fresh and clean. And it was a great time just to commune with God and get our heads on straight.

God has blessed me in so many ways, but being able to go to Inlow Youth Camp was one of the best.

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My Husband Threw My Frying Pan into the Fire

25 Sep

Frying pan burning in the fire copy

On the Porch

Onisha Ellis

I'm a winner

 

My husband threw my frying pan into the fire. Well, to be accurate, he threw two frying pans into the fire. You might think he was swearing off of fried foods and choosing to eat healthy, but nothing could be further from the truth. His idea of eating healthy is if it tastes good eat it.

The “frying pan incident” began back in the summer when my aunt Geroleen came to visit. I was getting ready to scramble eggs and pulled out my cast iron frying pan that had been my mothers. My mind flashed back to washing up my aunt’s frying pan on one of our visits with her. That frying pan was smooth and a thing of cured beauty. I was a bit embarrassed by the bubbles of built up burned grease on mine so I asked her how she kept her pans free of crud. Her answer was culinary shock and awe. She throws her cast iron frying pans into a fire! I questioned her on just how that worked and filed it in my mind. (It’s like a steel trap, you know-Ha-ha)

Weeks passed as I mulled this bizarre idea. I decided I had to try it, so I told my husband the next time he burned brush, to let me know. I wanted to add my pans to the fire.

On Monday it was a beautiful cool morning with very little wind. Mike announced it was time to burn some brush. Now burning brush is not a chore for my husband. He loves burning wood and tends the fire while practicing whittling with a water hose by his side. My ears perked up. “Wait, I said. I want you to burn my frying pans” Since he has lived with me for forty-three years, he didn’t even hesitate. When the fire was all set, he took the pans and put them on top of the heap. He said the pans literally caught fire as the grease burned. As the wood burned down, the glowing pans fell into a nest in the ashes.

Once the pans were cool, he brought them up to the house and I began the job of scrubbing them with steel wool. I was thrilled with the smooth sides and inner surface Once that was done; I washed them, coated them with oil and put them in a 180-degree oven for an hour and a half. After they cooled again, I used paper towels to wipe out the remaining oil.

The downside to this story is the pans look so nice, I don’t want to mess them up again.

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When I searched the Internet for ways to clean cast iron, this method was not listed. It’s an “old” method. Do you have any cleaning or cooking hints from the old ways that you use today?

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An Everglades Adventure~Part 1

24 Sep

A Slice of Life

Bill Lites

Bill

 

After moving to Florida and becoming an avid Florida Natural Springs campers, we began to encourage our close friends to go camping with us. We told them how much fun it was and how great it was to get out and be one with Nature.   Florida has some of the most beautiful tropical State and National parks a person could ask for, and we had become determined to visit as many of them as we could.

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One day our friends, Dwayne and Jenny, expressed an interest in going camping with us. Well, that’s all we had to hear and we began planning our next trip. DiVoran had always wanted to visit the Florida Everglades, and since we had no other suggestions, that’s where we finally decided to go. In the early 70’s, the Everglades National Park was advertised as Nature at its best, with camping, hiking, canoeing, animal and bird watching and more. Well, we thought it would be a great adventure to camp at the southern tip of Florida and enjoy all those wonderful features. The part they left out of their colorful brochure was how primitive the area was.   

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As I remember, at the time, Dwayne and Jenny’s three children were about 12 months, 3 and 6 years old, and our two children were about 8 and 10 years old. We planned to use our small pop-up camper as a base camp while their family slept in a large tent that would hold all of them. We each borrowed a canoe for the trip, and we packed all our food and equipment in our camper. We had a 1960 Chevy Biscayne that I drove back and forth to work and used to pull the camper.

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Dwayne and Jenny had their tent, and all of their family provisions loaded in their car, with their canoe strapped on the top.   We had everything loaded, packed and ready for an early morning start. The best I remember it, Dwayne and I had taken Friday off, and since we were both off work the following Monday for (I think it was) Columbus Day, we were looking forward to a nice long four-day weekend to enjoy our Everglades Adventure. So, off we went the next morning as early as we could to get everyone moving.

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We headed south on I-95 looking forward to a wonderful relaxing trip.   We were breezing along at 70 mph, with great anticipation about our upcoming adventure, when just as we were approaching SR-192 in Melbourne (only about 40 miles from our starting point), the engine in our car suddenly made a loud clattering noise, and the engine quit. I had no idea what could have happened, but all I could do now was to safely get off the highway and coast to a stop to check it out.

 

                                                            —–To Be Continued—–

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My Husband…My Hero

21 Sep

SUNDAY MEMORIES

Judy Wills

JUDY

After the birth of our second child in 1971, we moved from Loring AFB, Maine, to San Antonio, Texas, where Fred would become an instructor at the Officer Training School (OTS) at Lackland AFB. Since our marriage, we had always lived in either apartments or government quarters. We felt it was time to own our first home. So we began looking at houses not too far from Lackland.

We didn’t actually have a realtor, but kept seeing signs for “Ray Ellison Homes” all around that area, so we checked them out. There was a subdivision of new homes there – within our price range – and we found one we liked. It wasn’t terribly large, but it had three bedrooms and TWO BATHROOMS!! WOW! We snapped it up.

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The bedroom windows in this house were high and long – narrow. They were high enough that we could hang a picture above our bed (no headboard). One night in 1972, about 2:00 a.m., we both were awakened by a bright light. We got up and looked out our bedroom window – and saw flames roaring from the garage in the house next to us! It took us a few seconds to recognize what was happening, then we swung into action. I called the fire department, then ran to get the girls. I was in such a state that I forgot to bring extra diapers for Janet! The firemen told us we had to leave the house, so we went to the neighbor’s house across the street.

In the meantime, Fred ran next door to the burning house. He began ringing the doorbell and pounding on the door. I heard him yelling “FIRE” several times. He woke them up. To his amazement – they ran back into the house to get “stuff” before leaving. They told us later that, while they usually left their bedroom doors open at night, they had each closed their doors that particular night, and so didn’t know their house was on fire.

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None of the family members were injured in the fire, while the entire house was destroyed. Fred suffered some burns on his forehead from blowing embers. After rousing the house members, he grabbed our garden hose and began spraying the side of our house, trying to save it from as much damage as possible. Some of our windows shattered, but we had the blinds closed, and so the shards were contained mostly in the carpet. We had about $500 damage to our house, including the soft water tank on that side of the house. But Culligan came and replaced it with no charge to us.

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It took until after daybreak for the fire to be under control. We were amused to see that some of the neighbors came out to retrieve their newspapers and found fire trucks and hoses in the street! They hadn’t heard or seen anything during the night! Heavy sleepers, huh?

I volunteered to help do some salvage. What amazed me was in the kitchen – the door of the dishwasher was completely mangled and warped. But under the top cabinets hung a roll of paper towels, completely untouched by the fire!

Two years later, the house on the OTHER side of us caught fire in the early morning. And we learned that, after we left San Antonio, the house two doors down from THAT one burned. Seems like it skipped every other house. We’re just glad ours was one of the “skipped” ones!

But Fred is my hero – thinking of the neighbors as he did.

 

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I Never Met a Pizza I Didn’t Like

15 Sep

My Take

DiVoran Lites

 

Author, Poet and ArtistTo celebrate our 57th wedding anniversary, Bill and I went out for pizza. Mama Rosa’s, where we had planned go, was closed for vacation so we schlepped on down to Kelsey’s in Port St. John. We had already celebrated twice, having normally scheduled meals with family members and calling them celebrations, but this was the real thing on the real day.

Bill took me for my first pizza when I was eighteen years old. The restaurant was on Central Blvd in Albuquerque. It was also where he took me for my first lobster. Then when he decided to ask for my hand in marriage he took me there again. I liked lobster fine, and I liked the T-bone steaks at a small diner where they only cost $2.00 a plate, but the love of pizza stayed with me for the rest of my life (so far.)

We did get married and our first month in California where Bill was going to school, we spent every penny we had with barely enough to pay the rent. We didn’t even have money for food. I think we spent it on movies or something equally frivolous. Anyhow, Bill’s friend drove out from New Mexico to visit and our mothers sent care packages. They knew we’d developed a passion for pizza so between them they sent five boxes of Appian Way pizza mix and a pizza pan to bake them on. We got by.

Later when I had a job with Magic Mirror Beauty Salons and Bill worked part time cleaning airplanes our favorite pizza palace was Sir pizza. I’d stop there after a hard Saturday on my feet, get a pizza with everything (except anchovies and green peppers), stop at Thrifty Mart for a bottle of Thunderbird, and we’d spend our Saturday evening watching our tiny black and white T. V. and munching away at our pizza. We loved the cowboy shows such as, “Rawhide,” and “Wagon Train,” and it was a lovely thing to look forward as we went to work Saturday morning. “See ya later, alligator, after while, crocodile.”

We started out eating a whole small pizza between us, but now all we can manage is half, which is great because that means we can stick it in the oven for fifteen minutes the next day and enjoy it all over again.

Listen, the reason we both look kind of funny in this picture is that I asked a man who was in front of us in the paying line to take the picture and he wasn’t sure what he was doing and he took one and it didn’t flash and Bill said take another one and we were both wondering whether he was going to be able to manage it or not. You can see we weren’t overly anxious, but then again who had time to smile with all that going on. We really did enjoy ourselves and are planning many more pizza times to come. We’ll try Mama Rosa’s again on my seventy-sixth birthday which is coming up soon. Y’all come. (You see we live in the South now, so I’ve taken on Southern talk.)

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Transition to Maine~Part 6

14 Sep

SUNDAY MEMORIES

Judy Wills

JUDY

 

 Our youngest daughter, Janet, was born in Maine – our little Maineiac.

 

It was early morning, and we had arranged for Karen to stay with a neighbor several doors down. After Fred took her there, he called the base hospital to see if he should go to work or come stay through the labor and delivery with me. (The hospital in Germany, where Karen was born, was very progressive for that time – they allowed the husbands in the delivery room. We had anticipated cajoling the delivery doctor at Loring into letting Fred be in the delivery room with Janet’s delivery, since he had already participated in one, and not passed out!) The answer he received really shocked him – Sir, your baby is already delivered! But they didn’t tell him whether it was a boy or girl – they left it up to me. But neither they nor he told me that, until after he had been there about 30 minutes. He looked at me and asked – so what do we have? So I got to inform him he had another daughter, Janet Lynn.

While Janet and I were still in the hospital (remember – back in those days the average stay for a new baby and mother was three-to-four days!), Fred came to visit every day.

The day after Janet was born, he came to visit, plopped down in the chair, grinned at me and said, “You didn’t really want to spend another winter here, did you?” I nearly jumped out of the bed as I exclaimed….”YOU GOT ORDERS?” Since neither of us had been terribly thrilled being in northern Maine, Fred had been inquiring about being reassigned. The answer he usually received was, “Sir, you have three more years here before we’ll even consider transferring you.” But, apparently the AF needed instructors for their officer’s school in San Antonio, Texas more than they needed meteorologists at Loring AFB, and he had been given his walking orders. We were beyond excited!

Months later, as we were getting ready to depart for warmer climes, I attended an Officers Wives Club luncheon, where the Base Commander’s wife was issuing goodbyes to those leaving. It was amusing to hear her say, “….is heading to….AFB, south from here. And …..is heading to AFB,…. south from here. Well! I just realized that ANYwhere is south from here!”

Our church had a picnic in August before we left. It was great fun, and a great way to say goodbye to those we had come to love in Christ. There was the usual picnic stuff going on – softball, hot dogs, horseshoes, etc.

 

And there was this really…REALLY…tall slide that Karen absolutely LOVED going down. My heart was in my throat every time she climbed up and slid down, but she had a blast!

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And so, we left northern Maine and Loring AFB in late August, heading south. We were wearing sweaters at the time, as it was getting cold already. We arrived in Pennsylvania, to spend some time with Fred’s parents, and were back to wearing shorts. What a difference!

 

And so ends our Transition to Maine. Thank goodness it was only 13 months long!

 

 

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Gunnison Adventure ~Part 3

9 Sep

A Few Things

Patricia Franklin

The most memorable Gunnison trip we took was one into the high mountains via Steers Gulch Road. My husband rode horseback up here as a child with his Uncle on a fishing trip. He had not been up here since, and neither of the guys knew the road or the way there and down the other side into Antelope. The road was not well traveled, but they figured it would get better as we drove up on this round trip down memory lane. We drove for two hours uphill and were still climbing. We had forest service maps with us, but these maps did not show the roads that these guys travel, so we were not too sure where we were going to end up. Finally we came to a deep valley with an old road leading down to a cabin, which my husband remembered as “April’s Cabin.” So we knew we were on the right track, even though there were old logging roads or hunting roads leading off in other directions.

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As we drove on up, we saw field after field of flowers and more varieties of mountain flowers than I have ever seen, and we had to get out many times and get close up pictures along the way. Several were very rare and only bloom for a short time when conditions are perfect. We ran across many we did not recognize.

After enduring this rough “road” for many miles, we finally came to the top of the mountain and were able to look over into the next range of mountains, the Baldy Mountain Range, which is visible on the horizon from Gunnison.

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This is where my husband and his uncle rode horseback down the side of the mountain to Beaver Creek, where they caught a “pillow case” full of trout to take home. Of course, that is not legal any more, but I don’t know of anyone who would make this trip just to fish anyway. This was a beautiful area with a big old stump at the top of the meadow with Columbines growing all around it. This made a wonderful picture, with the Baldies in the background.

 

We then started down the other side of the mountain and headed for home. It was not supposed to rain that day, but the clouds were building up and we did not want to get caught up there in a rain storm. We had a couple of choices of roads to take, and we figured out later we took the road that was not a road, and I’m sure had not been traveled or maintained forever. We ended up going down over huge rocks and just hanging on till we got to the bottom of a ravine. At the last bump going down, our brand new off-road tires got scrunched by the rocks and we blew a tire — 20 miles out in the wilderness on a non-used road, and no cell phone service. So the guys got out to change the tire, and of course it started to rain. 20 miles out in this country could have been 100 because of the rough up and down terrain, the rocks, gullies and then clay-like mud and swampy areas. Well, they got the tire changed and we started up the hill on the other side of the ravine, not knowing for sure where we were going or if we would end up at a dead end. The guys kept saying the road should get better, as they were sure this was the Antelope Road, but in fact, it got worse and we were bumping over rocks, then sliding down the clay-like muddy road that just kept going up and down, through the trees and gullies. It was a very long, tedious ride for many miles, as everyone got quiet, the road got worse and rain kept coming down.

Finally, we topped a hill and they saw the city of Gunnison in a valley many miles away. The “road” we were on looked like it would continue on, so in spite of the conditions, we were relieved, even though we knew if we slid off or lost another tire, we would be walking this road for many hours in the dark, without proper clothing or lighting. We finally came to civilization again as we spotted a ranch house about 1/2 mile away. After that, we felt like we could breathe again, and finally came upon a main road that took us home.

You would think that someone of our age and experience would know getter than to get into a situation like that, but after all, we were just out for a “little Sunday drive.” That was our big adventure for this year. I would not do it again, but we did get some beautiful pictures and saw flowers that we will never see again. And I got closer to the Lord as I did a lot of praying

The original family homestead with new construction.

The original family homestead with new construction.

 

Slide show of the flowers we saw.

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Transition to Maine~Part 5

8 Sep

SUNDAY MEMORIES

Judy Wills

JUDY

 

Winter humidity in Maine is so dry/non-existent, that we had to have a humidifier running inside the house all winter.  Otherwise, the furniture would come apart, and the glue in the picture frames would dry up and the frames would fall apart.  We purchased a new one when we arrived, and sold it when we left.

It was so cold and dry during the winter, that I wrote to family and friends that “when you go outside, and the moisture in your nose freezes, you KNOW it’s cold!”

Fred was able to get off time at Christmas, so we drove to King of Prussia, Pennsylvania to spend it with his parents.

 

 

 

It was a long drive, but it was nice to get back to “civilization.”  While it was still cold in PA, it was almost a relief to have “normal” cold rather than the bitter cold of Maine.

We held a going-away party at our house for the departing Commander of the Weather Detachment.  Most of the unit attended, including spouses.  While in Germany we had some reel-to-reel tapes of instrumental music made, and since they were long-playing, we just let them play during the party.  The Commander got up and gave his goodbye speech.  There was a pause – in the music as well as in his speech.  When he started up again, he started with “I just want to thank you all….”  At the same instant, the music began again, and it happened to be Bob Hope’s theme song Thanks for the Memories.  I couldn’t have timed it better if I had planned it!  One of the other officers there was also a musician, and we looked at each other and grinned – we both caught the significance of it.

After the departure of the Commander, Fred became the unit Commander, serving in that capacity for the remainder of our time there.

Our little church was without a pastor when we arrived.  Several of the men in the church would take turns preaching – including Fred.  There was a small choir.  In spite of it all, the spirit of the congregation was good, and we had a good fellowship, and were able to worship our Lord and Savior.  While we were there, the church called a pastor.  Turns out, his wife was a Maine native, and they were eager to return to the state.  God used him greatly in that place – and he stayed as pastor for 20 years, until his retirement.  We have since learned that the government has closed Loring AFB, and that impacted the church as well.  We knew they had been reaching out to the local communities, in hopes of having a lasting congregation if….when….the base closed.  We don’t know, currently, how it is faring.

~~~~~~~~To Be Continued~~~~~~~~

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