A PAGE FROM THE PAST - LITERALLY

In searching for something else, I  came across this summation of the summer following my daddy's death.in March, my mother had come to live with us, our youngest had just turned 4, the other two were 6 and 8, and John's new job took him miles and days away ~ thankfully summer came:

 I'm unsure who the BUDDING vAN GOGH was!

This was on the back side of the page.

 

A CALENDAR PAGE TURN FOR 2017 BROUGHT MEMORIES OF 1971

DADDY - FIFTY YEARS - BUT SO MUCH CLOSER IN MEMORY

WILMER MADISON LIBBY April 17, 1910-March 8, 1967 

    When I think of Daddy I see a man whose life was spent serving God and his fellowman.
    He had much respect, compassion, and great love for the elderly or infirm. If there were a task that needed to be done and for some reason he couldn't do it himself, he’d try to set it up so another could.
   Daddy never shied away from hard work. He worked as a machinist making airplane parts during WW2. He dug and planted home gardens for produce. He swung a large scythe to empty the fields of hay at our home in the country in West Garland, Maine, hung a rope swing from a butternut tree for me, and dammed up the brook so our family and friends could have a swimming hole. He was a talented mechanic and kept our old cars on the road. To save money and wear and tear on the cars when we lived in Bangor during the 1950’s, regardless of the weather, Daddy walked about 14 blocks to the downtown area where he could take a bus the 15 or so miles to his work at the Old Town machine shop. Another of his talents was the ability to repair clocks and he did so with a chiming wonder that belonged to my maternal Grandmother Glidden. He even found and took time many evenings in West Garland to play Dominoes with us.
    He thoroughly enjoyed good music. He appreciated his sister's accordion-playing, always with his foot tapping the beat. He played the harmonica well but not often. In Bangor, with a smile on his face, he listened to radio play-by-play of the local basketball team, particularly during the years we had friends involved as team- members. When the time arrived that we had a TV, watching and listening to the weekly Liberace Show became a "must". Again, the foot-tapping accompanied the lively piano music.
    He also appreciated good humor. Whenever I see an ad for The Globetrotters, I always think of Daddy's laughter as he   watched their antics on TV. I hear it again when I watch any bit of the Roadrunner and Wylie Coyote cartoons or see the Lucy and Charlie Brown comics during football season.
    In his last years Daddy, chose to leave his work as a machinist and become a full-time minister because he wanted to share all he could of what he had learned in his own walk as a follower of Christ.  
    Daddy was a man of few words so when he spoke people knew he had something to say. He said much by simply living.

DADDY IN HOULTON, MAINE, DOING WHAT HE OFTEN DID THERE  THE WEEK HE DIED THE   TEMPS WERE 30 BELOW ZERO.

 THE HOULTON, MAINE CHURCH BUILDING. THE NIGHT DADDY DIED ROM A MASSIVE HEART ATTACK ABOUT A MONTH BEFORE HIS 57TH BIRTHDAY, HE WAS STUDYING FOR HIS SUNDAY LESSON. JOHN E. MOORE, AGE 27, USED THOSE NOTES AND BROUGHT THAT LESSON THE DAY FOLLOWING THE FUNERAL.

THE LAST PHOTO TAKEN OF 

WILMER AND SUSIE ("MIMI") LIBBY IN LATE 1966.

 

VOICES FROM THE PAST

    

During our song service this past Sunday morning Justin Thornton led the hymn, “There Was One Who Was Willing.” There are some songs, hymns in particular, that bring the voices of particular people to my head and to my heart with such clarity, I can nearly feel the presence of certain persons. Am I the only one with such feelings, or do you recognize them as similar?

    “There Was One Who Was Willing.” always brings a return to my teen years of singing soprano in response to my mother’s request to “Please come sing with me.” She had a wonderful gift of true harmony and while she generally sang alto, on this song, her voice smoothly transitioned to the high tenor. While I would thoroughly enjoy having a recording of one of our sessions, particularly one that would include this hymn, I don’t really have to because it is so well embedded in my musical memory box. Without having to be wound up, it plays each time I hear the song. I am thankful. 

    Another voice I hear is that of my daddy when we sing “Without Him”. Daddy and George Beverly Shea had unforgettable timbres of similar quality. As I recall, that hymn gained popularity not too long prior to my daddy’s death, but I know he favored it in more ways than one. 

     Of the myriad that does stand out to me, another song I respect more than I alone would have chosen, is ”Worthy Art Thou” that we seldom sing. After Daddy died, I found his easy-recognize-pencil-handwriting by the title simply stating, “Good Song”. Coming from Daddy it meant I must pay closer heed to its words.

    Before that, there was a summer day when our young family of four, John and I, with Beth, 3-and-1/2, and Chip, 1-and-1/2, were house-hunting. We were in our Plymouth that shortly before had suffered a burned-out clutch at the end of a very long day of travel, while we were hauling a U-Haul type trailer that held all our earthly belongings.  With a good night’s rest and a once again road-ready car, we were driving through neighborhoods, looking for “For Rent” signs when we passed the church building. From the back seat, Beth started to sing, “Trust and obey, for there’s no other way, to be happy in Jesus, but to trust and obey.”  Lesson taken, little girl. I cannot say for sure, but I don’t think that hymn has EVER been led in an assembly of which I have been a part, but what the memory of that young voice in song has returned to my head and my heart.

    I’ve read of touches of humor in relation to how, before they can read, children misunderstand words of hymns. Here’s one that stays in my music memory. I was tending nursery the last day our son, Chip, was at services before he left to serve in the USAF, so I didn’t hear this, but was told about it later. Because I knew the petite, 6-year-old blond who sat beside our son, I could well imagine how her ability to project her singing voice sounded as she sang out her praises, “And His glory is exhausted, And His glory is exhausted, And His glory is exhausted far above the earth and sky.” Michelle, to this day you are unforgettable! You brought so many smiles, not only on that day, but also on many days since.

     The scripture says, “A happy heart is good medicine.” (Proverbs 17:22) Singing these songs and hearing the voices from the past is uplifting. Have any of these tales brought any memories of similar hymns/songs stories from your hearts? If so, why don’t you share? We’d really love to hear them!

© M Sue

2-28-17

MY PRECOCIOUS CHILD

My child, at two, you sang

the names

of the apostles with me.

It was quite an accomplishment

for a child of two

To wrap your tiny tongue around

those names.

It was more than

some adults ventured to do!

More than once we smiled with pride

as you sang

and quoted on ---

“Jesus called them

one by one –

Peter, Andrew, James,

and - - - *Daddy!”

(*Well, you knew you weren’t

supposed to call him John!)

© M Sue

2-23-2017

DIGGING INTO MY PAST

When I was a preschooler, supposed to be taking a nap, I was not sleepy.

The room in that huge house in central Maine was hot.

The humidity on that mid-summer day was excessive.

Mamma probably needed the rest more than I.

As I lay on the thin mattress on the cot in what I am now sure was a room other than the one I’d normally use, I suspect it was one chosen because it might be in a cooler part of the 17-room house that had years before been a country inn, and certainly a room not used by our family during the cold winter months.

The cot on which I was supposed to lay was placed directly against the wall of exposed bare wooden laths with crumbling plaster stuck in between. That is, most of the plaster was stuck in between the laths until I, being bored with my status, chose picking plaster over taking a nap. The plaster was so old and dry, it crumbled easily under the pressure of my small fingers. Not only did it crumble, but in so doing, of course it left empty spaces showing signs of my (shall we call it?) labor, plus it made little scritchy-scratchy sounds, rather like that of scurrying mice, as the tiny pieces tumbled and fell at varying intervals down inside and outside the walls.

The strange thing is, following my “nap”, I don’t recall being scolded, or taken to task in any way whatsoever, for doing such a deed – unusual because damaging property was definitely frowned upon in our family - and generally brought about reprisal that I surely would recall. For this reason, I am positive this had to have been one of the extra rooms, likely over the long part of the “L”; therefore, almost never used. Why I’d be trusted there, I fully question. It could have been during one of the infrequent times a “babysitter” was called in when my mother was away. Obviously, I was not a trustworthy child, and only recall being in that room on a couple of occasions.

Even though I was there for a nap, I know all of the above really happened. I am sure I was not dreaming!

© M Sue

A YOUTHFUL PURCHASE

Sometimes the little girl inside comes calling

And surprises me once more.

It happened just the other day

While at the Goodwill store.

These slipper boots called out to me -

The weather had been chilly;

I almost looked behind my back,

Sure folks would think me silly.

But like those boots? Indeed I did,

Enough to make me think

It worth almost any price to pay -

Would they send me to a shrink?

But I decided there and then

Those slippers may be youthful,

But deep inside one knows just when

To face self, and be truthful.

What about those slippers said,

“These are only for the youth”?

Absolutely nothing. In my mind was the real truth!

I’d been thinking the wrong way,

I’d do better to think truthful!

I bought the slippers, brought them home,

And now I float just . . . youthful!

© M.Sue