Blog 103: Older Americans Month

By Vernon M. Herron

Persons over 65 are called many things; senior citizens, old folks, the elderly, the “has been,” now the month of May has been designated “Older Americans Month.” Recently, my beloved niece, Gaynelle Harris Grier sent to me a humorous song entitled, “I’M A SENIOR,” to the tune of “JESUS LOVES ME.”

1^st verse

I’m a senior, this I know; for my body tells me so-

Aches and pain to me belong, head to toe they hurt so long.

Chorus

Yes, Advil helps me. Yes, Gas-X helps me.

Yes, Ben-Gay helps me; my doctor tells me so.

2rd verse

I’m a senior that’s my stride, on a tour bus I will ride

motel, hotels let us in, I am ready- you say when

Chorus

Yes, aspirin helps me. Yes, Centrum helps me.

Yes , B-C helps me; my doctor tells me so.

3^rd verse

I’m a senior with gray hair, wrinkles, age spots everywhere

In retirement I will spend, time with grandkids with a grin.

Chorus

Yes, Clairol helps me, yes, face cream helps me.

Yes, Ensure helps me; my doctor tells me so.

4^th verse

I’m a senior aches will stay, bladder weakens everyday

I just thank God that I am here. When I pray, here’s what

He’ll hear.

Chorus

Thank you for Vioxx. Thank you for Depends. Thank you

 for my heavenly home. I’ll be there, You know when.

                                                                    Author Unknown

 Thinking that jabbing me with whatever wounded feelings there may be, Gaynelle also sent a puzzle, “I NEED TO TELL YOU A SECRET.”

1)    I need to tell you a secret (look at #5)

2)    The answer is ( look at 11)

3)    Don’t get mad (look at # 15)

4)    Calm down, don’t be mad (look at 13)

5)    First (look at # 2)

6)    Don’t be mad (look at 12)

7)    I just wanted to say Hi…and I love you.

8)    What I wanted to tell you is…(The answer is on #14)

9)    Be patient (look at #4)

10)This is the last time I’m going to do this (look at #7)

11) I’m not mad when I’m saying this (look at #6)

12) Sorry (look at 8)

13) Don’t be getting all hype (look at #10)

14) I don’t know how to say this (look at #3)

15)You must really be ticked off (look at #9)

Thank you Gaynelle, I love you too.

It is interesting to note how time never stops; it is an aging process for us all.

In the following picture, we see the march of time. In 1956, Gaynelle was a third grader in elementary school. Today she is a wife, mother, grandmother, and a great grandmother.

 

        

Gaynelle as a third grader

1956

With the aid of an unknown writer, now let me see if I can put the “Older Americans Month” into a proper perspective. Age is not a time of life; it is a state of mind. Nobody grows old by merely living a number of years; people grow old only by deserting their ideals.

Years wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul. Worry, doubt, self-distrust, fear and despair—these are the long, long years that bow the head and turn the growing spirit back to dust.

Whether seventy or sixteen, there is in every being’s heart the love of wonder, the sweet amazement at the stars and starlike things and thoughts, the undaunted challenge of events, the unfailing childlike appetite for what’s next, and the joy and the game of life.

You are as young as your faith, as old as your fear; as young as your hope, as old as your despair. In the central place of your heart, there is a wireless station; so long as it receives messages of beauty, hope, cheer, courage, grandeur and power from the earth, from men and from the Infinite, so long you are young.

When the wires are all down and the central place of your heart is covered with the snows of pessimism and the ice of cynicism, then are you grown old indeed and may God have mercy on your soul.

     

Blog 102: Desiderata

There are four documents which have inspired me greatly over the years. They are The Bible, The US Constitution, World Literature and the Desiderata. It is about this latter document which I want to share with you today. Desiderata, (Latin “desired things”) is a 1927 prose poem by American writer Max Ehrmann (1872-1945), largely unknown in the author’s lifetime. The text became widely known after being found at Adlai Stevenson’s deathbed in 1965. For maximum benefit, may I suggest that you read the poem slowly for comprehension.

Vernon M. Herron

Desiderata

By

Max Ehrnmann

(1872-1945)

     Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.

     As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.
     Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story.      Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to the spirit.
     If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
     Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
     Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.
     Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love, for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it is as perennial as the grass.
     Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
     But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
     Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.
     And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
     Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul.
     With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

Blog 101: The Irony of Dorothea Dix Psychiatric Hospital and Shaw University: Both of Raleigh, NC

     
By Vernon M. Herron

     Two molding institutions in Raleigh, NC are having financial problems which may affect their future lives and services. Word has come that Dorothea Dix Psychiatric Hospital is closing its doors and is merging for continued effective service. Shaw University has experienced a natural disaster and is struggling to survive.
     Dorothea Dix began serving the mentally ill in 1856; while Shaw University began to service the impoverished community in 1865. Both institutions were concerned with the health of the mind for good and diverse functioning of the body. Shaw, at one time, had a School of Law, Medicine and Education, while Dix was always a correctional and treatment institution.
     By “irony,” I am referring to a pretense of ignorance and willingness to learn from another assumed in order to make the other’s false conceptions conspicuous by adroit questioning.
    

Two Jokes

     I remember first hearing of Dix Hospital when a freshman at Shaw University in 1947. 
     A parent mother who had come down from the North to visit her son at Shaw University, ended up on Dix campus. She was informed by a Dix patient, that “this is not Shaw University but Dix Hospital.” 
     In a surprised mode, the mother said, “What a surprise! Your residential buildings look like college dormitories; your grassy plains look just like a college campus; your roadway looks just like a campus drive and roadway.”
     Whereupon the patient said to the mother, “Madam, there is a difference between these two institutions; we here at Dix must show a tremendous improvement before leaving.”
    
     Another episode is about a Dix patient and a Shaw student. 
     The latter was near the Dix campus one day and was “chased” by a patient all the way through town and onto the Shaw campus. The faster the Shaw student ran, the harder the Dix patient pursued. 
     By the time the student reached Shaw campus, stopping at the first bench, he was out of breath and wondered, what’s would happen next? 
     As the patient approached the student, he simply touched the erudite scholar on the shoulder and said “tap, I got you” and returned to Dix’s campus.
     
     What do you make of it?
    

Blog 100 - Reaching the Goal and Beyond

Blog 100

Reaching the Goal and Beyond

by

Vernon M. Herron

This is blog number 100. It indicates that 100 blogs have been written with the help of guest writers over a period of one year. Many disciplines went into the mix for thought development, sentence construction, showing training, experience and exposure in English, Seminary, Genealogy, History, Grantsmanship, fraternal life, strategic planning, family life, church life, political-social-economical life, travel and death experiences. These disciplines are the sum total of who I am in body, attitude, aptitude and spirit.

Initially, we had hoped to publish the first 50 blogs in a compiled book form but that objective was not realized. The goal was extended to blog 100 and then publish. So here we are. “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.” This we did. For those of you who registered a desire for a book, you will receive information on how to obtain the same soon.   

 

Blog writing was not a monolithic enterprise. It was a group effort, including input received from Alexander and his mother Leila Waters, Barbara Hendricks, Ione Vargus, Constance Dillon, Joseph Burton, Steve Johnston, Donnell Sheppard, William Youngblood, guest writers, public library, local churches and other sources for which I thank you.

Initially, I edited a  Class Newsletter  for the Charlotte Second Ward High School Class of ’47. After that stint, it was Joe Burton’s introduction to the blogging idea which captured my fantasy.  I shall long remember, how the inspiration for blog writing came to me upon rising in the morning with blog subjects, body development and clues for the final touch. As stated earlier, we have reached the goal of producing 100 blogs. That process has helped this writer mentally, socially and intellectually; some constructive and innovative movements replaced floundering strategies; senior citizen moments were challenged; new friends were made; fresh ideas were created; and life’s experiences became relevant and germane.

Let us all think through the next step for blogging. I will initiate model one. You are free to add or subtract from the model The new blogging idea suggests a CONSORTIUM of COMMENTATORS.  (C/ C).

Consortium: An agreement, combination or group formed to undertake an   

enterprise beyond the resources of any one member.

Commentator: One who gives a commentary by discussion.

Consortium defined

Of people who have computers, form a participatory e-mail group of commentators whose mission it would be to review selected “Herron Speaks” blogs by critiquing and evaluating the same for further dialogue and review. This could be stimulating.

Consortium in Operation

(Let us assume that 50 persons compose the c/c.)

1.     Each c/c would receive a number, which would be your badge of identification.

2.     Each c/c would receive a roster of committed numbers, names and e-mail addresses, which would comprise your c/c file.

3.      Each week, a previous published blog will be selected and sent to you as ‘the blog of the week’ for critiquing. When that is done, your comments are sent on to your entire file, only when your number appears. (This may require several weeks, depending on the number participating.)

4.     Once you have received a response from all c/c, then the process would repeat itself with another selected c/c number and a previous blog.

The challenge

Would you be interested in becoming a c/c? If so, register your interest with me, which will start the process only after we dispense with the book idea.

Blog 99: The Power of Suffixes

By Barbara P. Hendricks

Guest Writer

(See blog 39)

— Written by popular request —

     Think with me for a few minutes about words and their importance in our lives. 
     Parents eagerly anticipate the time when their children say their first word. From that time onward, talking becomes a goal. Talking and walking often occur simultaneously. 
     As children continue to grow, drawing, printing, writing in cursive and reading become important activities. We can classify all of these accomplishments as learning. 
     By this time you are probably wondering what any of this has to do with words. I assure you the answer is everything! Let’s look again at the words that define each accomplishment: talking, walking, drawing, printing, writing in cursive and reading. 
     When we view these words together, we can acknowledge the presence of another word: learning. Now, look at the ending of each of these words and you immediately recognize that each of them ends in –ing, which is a suffix. Suffixes are word endings which add new dimensions to the meaning of existing words, especially nouns and verbs.
     The words in the above paragraph are verbs, which by definition are action words. The –ings have given the words additional power by making them actions toward a goal. 
     The –ings in our life give credence to the fact that we are always in the process of accomplishing something or becoming the kind of person we would like to be. Hopefully, you have already thought of some additional words that are powerful because of the suffix –ing. 
     Some of these words are interacting, communicating, understanding, loving, playing, worshipping, and most important of all: living. Everything that we do each day is a component of living and must be accepted and respected as a process of becoming better persons.
     I definitely believe that learning must be a life-long activity that keeps living exciting and worth every breath we take! I am often reminded of Dr. Helen Morse Sanders, who was my Freshman Composition teacher at Spelman College. She was straight-laced and tolerated no nonsense in her classes. 
     She told us at the first class meeting that our goal was to learn how to write well. She continued by saying that each of us would be in the process of becoming excellent writers. She further stated that we were members of the freshman class and could only be considered satisfactory at that time. She then informed us that a status of satisfactory in her class was worthy of no more than a grade of C. She said that each of us could expect to receive a C as our first semester grade. Any higher grades could only be earned after we made progress toward becoming better excellent writers. 
     Even though it seemed very unfair at the time, I never forgot that lesson. I learned well that we are always in the process of becoming better at whatever task confronts us. Consider the power of the suffixes, especially the –ings.
   

Blog 98: "The Most Segregated Hour"

    

By Vernon M. Herron

The late Benjamin E. Mays

It is interesting to note that one’s declaration can be legitimized by one’s observation. Several years ago, the late Dr. Benjamin Elijah Mays, a former President of Atlanta’s Morehouse College declared that “any Sunday, the 11 a.m. worship hour is the most segregated hour in America.” This observation was based on historical rural America. The 11 a.m. hour was at the half-way point between the morning and the afternoon milkings. This time was practical for the average American farm family without regard to race, class, creed or culture. This declaration had legitimacy at that time.


Since the time of Dr. Mays’ observation, many factors have influenced the difference in the time we worship; economics, sports, educational pursuits, travel, social and the mass media and many more elements. Today, at the 11 a.m. hour on any given Sunday, one could be at work, sitting in a classroom, attending a tail-gate party before a super football game or engaged in numerous other activities deemed essential to life in the 21st century. We now worship at any hour on the clock, whether it be morning, noon, afternoon or evening. Of necessity, for convenience or pleasure, we are most likely to worship at some hour other than on Sunday at 11 a.m. The spirit of worship is not confined to a date, nor time.


The folk song, “The Little Old Wooden Church on the Hill” made an indelible impression on me regarding the 11 a.m. service. Here is a story in song:

It was in my childhood, many years ago,
with the spirit of the Savior, I was filled,
at an old fashion meeting, my memory lingers still,
in that little old wooden church, way out on the hill.


Chorus
You could hear the people singing, about a half a mile away,
and your heart begin to get a sudden thrill,
it would start your body moving, till you couldn’t keep it still,
in that little old wooden church out on the hill.


Every Sunday morning, we had a family prayer,
then into that country wagon we would fill,
then we’d start out on our journey, over rocks and over reels
to that little old wooden church on the hill.


Many folk have passed us, and many folk have gone,
but the sweet old golden memory lingers still,
I’m gonna keep that Holy Spirit, til death my body chills.
I got in that wooden church, out on that hill.


Then, when that old fashioned preacher gave out a metered hymn,
the crowd with the Holy Ghost was filled,
people would be shouting, thank God, I can hear them still,
in that little old wooden church way out on the hill.

Now, I worship at a church which gives you the option of worshipping at a time for your convenience or pleasure; 7:30 a.m., 9:30 a.m. or 11:30 a.m. Pick your hour but come just as you are!!!! (See blog 27)


The church’s demographic make-up is interesting. The membership is approximately 7500 of which 62% are females; 38% males; 60% adults; 8% children; 23% senior citizens and 8% unidentified.


While the seating capacity of the sanctuary is at 3000, a review of the three services shows the following commonalities, similarities and differences. 

All three services have the following in common:
A preacher
A choir
Full range of officers in service. (Deacons and Trustees)
Full core of ushers
Full core of medical staff
Nursery in operation
All services begin in the a.m.
Security available
Parking attendant
Prayer room for special needs


Distinction of the 7:30 service


Smallest in attendance
Least number of children in attendance
Worshippers have the rest of the day for desired needs


Distinction of the 9:30 service


Largest in attendance
More children and youth attend
Largest offering received
Half way point between 1st service and 3rd service
Church school simultaneously held


Distinction of the 11:30 service


Second in size attendance; more than the 7:30 service but less than the 9:30 service
Attendance caters to older church population
Hour for baptism and right-hand of fellowship


See you at church Sunday; but, at what time? Dr. Mays’ 11 a.m. hour is obsolete. What about the 9:30 a.m. service? We will be out by 11 a.m. This will give us plenty time to see the giants defeat the patriots. What about it?
     

Blog 97: Excerpts from My Autobiography

     

By Donald W. Jones

(Also, see Blog 73)

     I was born the middle child of three children in the mid ’40s to a farm family in rural central Virginia. My father was first a farmer, then a carpenter, then a demolition expert. He built our home from felling the trees to make the lumber, to hand planning the trim work for the doors and windows. 

     Our farm consisted of a farmhouse with four bedrooms, kitchen, dining room, living room. A barn, grain house, equipment shelter, chicken house and acreage for grain and vegetables rounded out the balance.

     Life on the farm was challenging, especially the daily chores that sustained the core family. We’ve often heard about hog killing time. The hog was an essential part of the equation. It supplied all the cuts of pork that were edible. The two things that were not used were the hair and the squeal. The hair was too rigid and the squeal was impossible to capture ( if you did, what would you do with it?). Other byproducts included lard for cooking, cracklin’ for cornpone, fried pork skins, and lye soap.
     My paternal grandmother raised a family of seven (7) children. I never knew my paternal grandfather who was murdered in 1929 while working on the railroad (not as a laborer). According to the 1920 census, he was mixed to the point of being questionable as to his ancestry. Upon being identified, thus to his demise, Jim Crow showed its head.
 

Alice V. Jones, 1871-1958

     My paternal grandmother pictured above was part Native American. The dress and apron worn were made from flour sacks. Flour came in cloth sacks upwards of 50 lbs., normally in solid colors until necessity made them useful for their content. Then, the printed patterns became abundant. My grandma Alice wore these dresses daily.      I have fond memories of my grandmother. Standing next to her, I noticed that most times she would have her hand in her apron pocket. It wasn’t until I grew older and observed her working in the garden, that I noticed she was sporting (smoking) a corncob pipe. This was one of her private pleasures. 
     Our church, Union Baptist of Shores, Virginia, had Sunday services on the 2nd and 4th Sunday of the month. Preachers were few and covered other churches on the 1st and 3rd Sunday at those locations. Sunday school was conducted all four Sundays. We lived about 1.25 miles from the church and walked there each Sunday. My grandmother would have on her church dress and newly polished laced-up shoes with her hat and veil. She always walked with a staff (not a cane) and we scurried either alongside or in front of her.
The road was the old gravel washboard type, rough and dusty. People would walk, or drive their horse and buggy, or mule and wagon. Those with cars would offer rides the last part of the way upon overtaking the walkers.
     Revival was the 4th Sunday in August. This was a full day of both morning and afternoon services with a lunch (more like a dinner) served between. All families would bring baskets of fried chicken, ham, potato salad, greens, rolls, iced tea, cakes and pies. Sometimes there would be watermelon. As kids, we knew who made the best of everything.
     Being part Indian, we knew that grandma’ would have some remedy for most colds, flu, cuts, bruises, bee stings and broken bones. The most memorable was her “mixture bag.” It contained a concoction of roots, herbs, grasses and who knew what else. It was placed on a string around your neck and had an odor onto itself. The one thing that it did was to keep everyone else out of your face. They couldn’t stand the smell. Maybe that was the intention. I also recall that for a sore throat she would make you swallow a partial teaspoon of Vicks salve. Ughhh.

Grandmother Alice Jones and grandson Donald Jones, c1954