Fun With Friends
I love the friendships I have had over the years. Having moved around a lot has awarded the opportunity to meet all kinds of people.
The first Friend I remember having was when I was about four years old. Her name was Mary Alice and lived down the street from where we lived in Stephenville. She usually came down to our house to play, but I remember one time going to her house. We walked through the house to go to the back yard and I have this image in my head of seeing her dad in a wheel chair. He was really gruff looking and had on a faded white t-shirt. It was unnerving and scary for a little boy. He didn't do anything, just the sight of him frightened me. I don't know if I ever went down there again. We moved not long after so I didn't have to navigate the situation long.
Between the ages of 5 and 8 1/2 we were traveling and ministering across the country. There was one church we frequented in the Kansas City area where the Packs pastored. Their kids, Monty, Rebekah and Angela, were about our age and we always had such a good time. They had a tree house we would play in and is probably the inspiration for the 3 tree houses I have build, for me, for my kids, for my grand kids.
When we settled in Seguin, Texas, I made quick friends with Chad Morgan, as well as his twin sisters Judith and Zondra. On my tenth birthday they were at my party where one of my presents was a cassette tape recorder. I played reporter and went around the room interviewing everyone. I still have that tape and Chad, Judith and Zondra are on it, eternally captured as evidence of the friendship. It was at there at a South Texas camp I had my first encounter with the voice of God. Chad and I were among the kids in the altar praying when Chad came over to me and said he had a vision that his mother and two sisters had been killed in a car crash and asked me to help him pray. As I prayed I heard God speak to me to go outside and look up. He said if I saw three bright stars in a triangle it would confirm Chad's family was safe. I went outside and looked up and immediately saw the stars I was meant to see, in a triangle as God had said. Now, my adult reasoning now knows I can look up and at any time see three stars in a triangle, but to a nine year old boy, my faith was a little less skeptical and cynical than it is as an adult. I saw, I believe, I reported to my friend who was able to calm down and feel peace. He was able to call home and find his family free from harm.
The seven years we spent in Ridgecrest, Louisiana, brought many close friendships my way. Between the ages of ten and seventeen I had many adventures with Rickie, Billy, Greg, Lorne, Terrance. Cheryl, Jennifer, Joy, Stacy, Janet, Sandra, Daris, Melody, and many others.
Rickie Cain, who lived across the street, and attended church with us, was probably my best friend. He is the friend who I built the tree house with. We would also go bird hunting together. If it had feathers, it was a target. As good sportsmen, we would claim our game and pluck them, then roast them in a skillet. I found most birds taste the same whether blackbird, sparrow, robin, dove, quail. One time I asked my mom how to make gravy. I misunderstood the "tablespoon of flower" and used a cup of flower. We had a loaf of gravy with our birds. "Can you slice me off another piece of gravy please!"
Rickie and I did most everything together. We even went the same day, my fifteenth birthday, to get our driver's licenses. I inherited the family 1974 AMC Gremlin. He started driving his dad's old work truck. His dad was a diesel mechanic and had a gold truck with a bed outfitted with many doors and compartments for tools. He had bought a new white tool truck so Rickie got the old gold truck. One day we went joy riding through the bean field at the end of the road. Rickie squared up on a mound of dirt and hit it full speed. We ramped into the air and landed with a bounce. When we looked up, Rickie's dad was driving down the road and saw the flight of his old truck. I heard words that day I had never heard before. I think he even invented a few curse words just for the occasion.
While at a Royal Ranger meeting, we were needing some wood for a fire. Rickie and I volunteered to collect some firewood, so we took our hatchets and trotted down the road to the woods behind the elementary school. We didn't get completely off the school yard before we found a nice tree to fell. We started chopping away when all of a sudden the community cop, Johnny Jones, pulled up. He scolded us for chopping a tree down in the school yard, then helped us put some mud on the fresh cut to make it less conspicuous. We promised to never do that again.
One Sunday Rickie, Lorne and I went to Greg's house between services and we went on an adventure walk. Lorne had forgotten to bring shoes to change into and had to wear his Sunday shoes with 2 inch heals. It was the seventies, so we all had those styling platform shoes. We walked down the tracks and over a trestle, stopping half way across the ravine, a considerable drop, and could feel the rumble of the tracks. We turned around and ran, hopping across the cross ties to safety just in time. As we headed back to Greg's house, we had to cross a field marked with a barbed wire fence. Greg warned us that the owner had been known to shoot at trespassers with rock salt loaded in his shotgun. We were about half way across the field when we heard BOOM. We took off running and Lorne had an exceptionally hard time running in the cow pasture, dented with hoof prints, in his platform shoes. We all dove through the fence and had to hold the wire agap for Lorne to dive through last. No man left behind.
Terrance lived on a large soybean farm. They had horses and cows and lots of room for adventure. I would spend the night with Terrance on occasion and we would ride horses and do farm things. One time we even went with his father to the bean grain elevator by riding on top of the beans in the big open truck trailer. I remember going through the middle of town and barely clearing the traffic lights. It was fun watching the truck unload the beans down into the bin and the screw carrying it up to the storage bin. There was plenty of wildlife on the farm, once being awakened by the sound of coyote in the yard under the bedroom window. Mornings were fun with fresh eggs and cream from freshly milked cows.
The Till girls, Cheryl, Jennifer, and Joy, lived a few doors down and we spent many Friday nights going down to all spend an evening together. They also went to our church and Sis. Bea Till loved to entertain her teen guests. Often she would pack us into her "woody" station wagon and we would go skating or to the bowling ally. Come back and watch TV or make cinnamon muffins (mostly that was Cheryl's specialty.)
Billy was quite a character. He had a funny way of saying almost everything. He called my dad, "Brudder Lecky Preacher Man." Our youth group would conduct services at the nursing home and take turns bringing a devotion. I remember Billy bringing a message about the fate awaiting those who aren't ready for heaven, and they will be cast into a place where the people are "naked" (pronouncing it with out the "ed" as just one syllable) and where there will be weeping and "ganashing" of teeth. Those poor people likely had no idea what he was trying to say.
Before I got my driver's license, Lorne, who was a year or so older than me, would take me cruisin' with him in his Chevy Malibu. We would make the loop at the sonic and down the main drag, round and round.
Daris moved to the area much later in our time there, but we were pretty good friends. I was driving by then, and he was younger, so it was he riding with me. We went on a double date to the skating rink in Natchez, Mississippi and on the way home, my date in the front and he and his in the back seat, my engine blew. Literal fire flew out of the hood toward the windshield. I pulled over to the side of the road and my exact words were, "Get my tapes and let's get out of here." See, my music was important and I had a case full of cassette tapes I didn't want to lose. A man's got to know his priorities. I went up to this dark house at 1 a.m. and asked to use the phone. He took me in to a Mickey Mouse phone with the dial on the foot and I called my dad who had to come out and take each of my guests home. I don't think I ever went out with that girl again.
In 1982 my dad felt led to interview for a pastor's position in Minden, Louisiana. In short order we were packing. I had already begun my senior year at Huntington High School in Ferriday, LA, and I wasn't thrilled about being the new kid again. It didn't take long, though, to meet my next best friend. Timothy Shane Sumrall and I became quick friends. I don't really even remember how we met. He went to the church, First Assembly of God, Minden, Louisiana, with me, and was one grade behind me at the same school. However we met, it seemed like we had known each other forever. We hung out most every day and there are many stories to tell.
There were lot's of trips to Shreveport, late night pool at the bowling alley, inventing drinks at Sonic. Yep, we invented the "Cherry Shipalade." We asked them at sonic if they could make us a "shipwreck," (meaning a mix of all sodas in the same cup) but also add cherry and lemonade. We had 3 Sonic's in 3 cities we could order this drink by name. We invented a lot of things. Like Buford T. Curfield and Cecil Hawpepper. It was late one night and somehow we came up with these names for ourselves as characters from the fictitious town of Punkin Seed Holler. I would introduce myself like, "My names Buford T. Curfield, and I ain't a gonna tell ya what the T stands fer." As the night got later, the character ensemble grew. We had Percy down to the general store. There was this ugly girl named Belsey and her rather large sister Taplunda. This was way to detailed to stay between us, so we developed comedy sketches and performed them at kid's church and banquets. Costumes and everything.
I developed an interest in a girl at church and was trying to muster up the courage to ask her out when the phone rang. It was Shane. His girlfriend had a friend and his girlfriend wouldn't go on a date with him unless he found a date for her friend. I didn't really want to, but I asked him to tell me about her. He said, "She's real sweet." He talked me into my one and only blind date. When we drove over to pick them up, she was taller, and wider, than me. The evening was awkward and uncomfortable from start to end and I couldn't wait to drop them off. I learned my lesson for sure.
While out driving around we had this thing we would do to swap drivers. Usually I would be driving, then slow down to about 30. He would slide over and grab the wheel (bench seats, no console) and I would crawl out of the drivers window. As he slide into the drivers seat, I would crawl over the top of the car and into the passenger window. Then repeat the process to get me back behind the wheel. I do not recommend this stunt. We must have had some kind of brain damage.
Another friend in Minden was Marty Henderson. He was a couple of years younger, but we both had interest in music. At the time I played drums in church. A young man moved to Minden from South Louisiana, John Jacques, who played guitar and piano. He became, not just my friend, but a family friend. I was like an adopted brother. We thought it would be great to start a band, and we found out Marty played drums, so I said, "I'll play bass." I had never played bass, so I went to the music story in Shreveport and bought a bass guitar and amp. I've loved the bass ever since. We named our band New Hope Summer Band, because I was graduating from high school and going to Southwestern Assembly of God College at the end of the summer. After my first year of college I came home and we reunited the band under the name Straightway. We played for a couple of years.
John was also a pilot. We went flying one time and were making passes over Caney Lake when John said, "Ok, it's your's." I said, "What's mine?" He said, "The plane. I just switched the controls over to you." Yikes. Give a guy some warning. I told me what to do and I had my one and only experience flying an airplane. He took over in time to land, though.
One November, John and I went camping at Lake Ouachita near Hot Springs, Arkansas. It isn't typical camping season, so we mostly had the campground to ourselves except for one left over hippy in a Volkswagen van with sunflowers painted on the side. The man came over after dark and asked to share our fire. He brought a coffee can, one of those old percolators you see in cowboy movies, and set it on the fire to brew while we swapped stories. We witnessed our Christian faith and he told us he believes in the great spirit. He said he makes a living digging crystal in the mountains. We had no doubt he was "digging crystal," if you know what I mean. The next day we went on a long nature hike around the lake. We wanted to take a short cut back to camp. Lake Ouachita is a valley lake in the mountains. It has an irregular shape with many lake-filled fingers flowing around the outskirts of the hilly region. On our way back we decided to save some time so we would arrive back to our campsite early. Rather than following the contour of the lake, we opted to take a short-cut over the mountain leading back the camp.
We got out the compass we brought with us, took a reading, drew a bead and proceeded in a deliberate direction. We had a great time walking and talking until we pulled out the compass to check our orientation. The compass revealed we were off course by about 30 degrees. This could not be correct, after all, we had walked in a straight line. We decided to go a little further on our pre-established course before checking the compass again. We were now about 60 degrees off course.
John is a smart fellow who loves physics and has a vast library of facts stored in his brain just for fun. He concluded the problem was the iron content in the mountain affected the compass causing it to give a falsified reading. I agreed the explanation seemed reasonable. We had not deviated from our straight-line walk while on our established route.
With new information in hand we decided to disregard the compass and continue in our established direction. We've all heard stories about people walking in circles in the forest. I had never experienced it first hand until this trip when on our hike we happened upon some familiar landmarks. After a few hours walking and talking, we were once again at the very same location where we had begun our short cut. We had just hiked full circle. After a big laugh, we re-plotted our course. We committed this time to following the compass exactly. By trusting the compass we arrived back at our camp, but much later than we had hoped.
As I look back, and even presently around, and my many friends over the years, I am such a blessed man. I could write chapters on each one. In this way, I am a wealthy man. I've found it is much more pleasant to make friends out of people than enemies. And it isn't really hard to have friends. Just be nice, kind, thoughtful, giving, and when you show yourself to be friendly you will have lots of friends. Hey, that sounds like a scripture! (It is)
Honestly, though, for the last forty+ years, my best friend has been Terri. We are best traveling buddies, best staying at home buddies, and everything in-between. I don't know what life would be like without her, and I don't want to know.
I have an even better friend. Jesus is a friend who sticks closer than a brother (also a scripture.) How could a life be more full than to have Jesus, a best friend wife, and surrounded by people who I call friend.