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Growing up, my parents always taught me the importance of respecting my elders.
It was always Mr. or Mrs., never calling someone older than me by their first name. If I called an elder by their first name, I was sure to get in trouble. I chuckle sometimes these days when I hear kids calling their parents by their first names instead of Mom and Dad. There were things we did in our lives back in the day that seem to be a lost art these days. My mom never wore a pant suit to church. She always wore a dress, even for the mid-week service. My dad always wore a suit with a tie on Sunday mornings, as did most men in the church. He wore greasy work clothes to his factory job during the week, but when it came to church, he was clean shaven and donned a nice suit. God doesn’t condemn folks for wearing a pant suit or shorts and a T-shirt to church. My folks, especially my mom, lived by the creed of putting your best foot forward and wearing the nicest clothes you owned to church. It didn’t make them better people or more Christian, it was a way of life. My dad always carried a pocketful of napkins everywhere he went. On Sundays, he would wrap up his billfold and comb in a napkin to keep any grease from his work clothes from getting on his suit. Today, like my dad, I carry napkins in my pockets and sometimes forget to take them out and they ended being washed. My Tulsa neighbors to the south where Mr. and Mrs. Watson. I would have expected to get my backside swatted had I called them Frank and Lucille. The couple had a son named Johnnie who was about 10 years older than me and lived in California. The Watsons gave me an Argus twin-lens reflex camera in the early 1970s that Johnnie had as a youngster. I got my start in photography using that camera and still have it to this day. Mr. Watson was a Ford car man. He loved his LTDs. Our narrow driveways were next to each other and were divided by a strip of grass. The strip was maybe three foot across at the street and got wider as it went toward our detached garages. Mr. Watson’s LTD was wider than his driveway, so he had to drive in the strip of grass, which created a mud hole. After work, my dad would go behind our garage and dig up a patch of sod and fill the holes and then water everything down, trying to get grass to grow. It never did any good as here came Mr. Watson, sloshing his way out to the street. One day I was asking for it when my dad told me not to ride my bicycle through his mud hole, as I called it. Here I come to test that theory and rode right through his mud hole. Dad grabbed me off my bicycle and proceeded to tan my hide. It’s the only time I remember my dad doing anything like that. It was usually my mom who ran the roost and took control of spanking my butt when I erred in life. In the early 1960s, my folks had the kitchen remodeled. They had two pantries on either side of the refrigerator and inside one of them, my mom drew a circle just a little bit higher than my nose. When I got in trouble, which I did on occasion, I would have to stand on my toes and stick my nose in that circle for what seemed like an eternity. It probably wasn’t more than 10 minutes. My mom wanted me to learn how to play the piano. It was her dream as a kid growing up in Missouri to play the piano, but my grandparents were too poor to own a piano. When I was a youngster, mom baby sat some neighbor girls and a cousin and earned enough money to buy a piano. I started taking lessons in the second grade with an older cousin on my mom’s side of the family. I progressed to take lessons from Mrs. Murry in west Tulsa. I went on to participate in several recitals where I performed Handel's “Hallelujah Chorus,” twice, the Beatle’s “Let it Be,” and “Joy to the World,” by Three Dog Night. I didn’t stay with the piano as I would rather spend my evenings and summers running around outside with the neighbor kids and school chums. I have no regrets, just lots of good memories growing up in a loving, caring family who molded me into the man I am today. I will always be thankful to my parents for working so hard to give me and my brother, Tom, the best they could. Have a great week and always remember that “Good Things are Happening,” every day and always.
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I pulled in my driveway last Tuesday and noticed the passenger side rear tire going flat.
“I think the tire is going flat,” I told Debbie as I stepped into the garage while taking a double look at the tire. With only one vehicle in the Parker household, a flat tire puts a halt everything. Thanks to my family, I was able to hitch a ride to and from work on Wednesday and got my tire fixed in the process. Flat tires are part of life. I put them in the category of running out gas a mile from the station. I’ve done that several times, including when I was moving to Iowa from Oklahoma after accepting the editor’s position at the North English Record. I ran out of gas on Interstate 44 four miles from Joplin. After calling the Missouri Highway Patrol road service and waiting for an hour, I ended up walking to a nearby rest area and calling for auto road service a second time through my insurance company. The highway patrol offered to call for me and the officer gave the tow company wrong directions. After three plus hours, I was back on the road and made it to Kansas City. Back in my days of youth, I was job hunting in my hometown of Tulsa and ran out of gas. I had $3 in my pocket and a gas can in my trunk. I walked to a neighborhood gas station and used my last dime to get all the gas I could. Back in the late 70s, $3 would almost fill up your tank. I remember gas wars where gas was 19 cents or less per gallon. That’s a far cry from $3 plus gas prices today and nearly $5 a gallon a year ago. More than once the low gas light has come on in our van. It’s my own fault. There is something about pulling into a station and filling up the van with a half a tank of gas. That’s enough gas to get to work for a couple more days. Debbie often reminds me of the time when we were on our way for a weekend get-a-way to Hannibal, Mo. It was late and we were rolling south along Highway 61 in Missouri when I realized we were almost out of gas. Thankfully, we found a gas station a few miles down the road and I was able to top off the tank and arrive safely in Hannibal. Another time, I was in the Bootheel of Southeast Missouri doing a story for the Missouri Magazine at Lamberts Café in Sikeston while in journalism school. I forgot to top off my tank and ran out of gas on Highway 60 between Sikeston and Dexter. God sent a couple hillbilly angels along to help me out. I got in their old beater and wondered if I would get out of alive. It all worked out as they took me to a nearby town and got me some gas and helped me get on the road again. At least running out of gas or getting flat tire is better than smashing into one of the thousands of Iowa’s deer lurking in the road ditches. I’ve hit four deer since moving to this fine state. The first came in the spring of 2001 shortly after moving to Montezuma from North English. I was on my way to a playoff basketball game at English Valleys when a big buck rolled out of the ditch and smashed into my company van by the East Iowa Bible Camp near Millersburg. I just kept on driving. I stopped in Millersburg to check out the damage. I could barely open the drivers’ side door, but the old girl was still running and nothing was leaking. The second time came as Debbie and I returned home from our honeymoon to the Great Smoky Mountains in October 2004. A big buck hit us by the Highway 63 entrance to Diamond Lake. That was an insurance nightmare that I don’t want to repeat. All I can say is, if you rent a car, buy the overpriced insurance. I’ve hit a couple deer on the Ewart Road. One in March 2019 on the way home from an indoor track meet and a second one in September 2021 on the way to work. My brother-in-law straightened out the big dent and we replaced the headlight and all is good with the world. Our van has 223,000 plus miles on it and it keeps on going, dents an all, like the Energizer Bunny. Life can presents lots of challenges far greater than running out of gas, getting a flat tire or even hitting a deer. When that happens, my advice is to dig into your heart, keep believing, keep praying and keep on walking. The future is looking bright! Have a great week and always remember that “Good Things are Happening,” every day and always. My hat goes off to the young people at the Poweshiek County Schools who participate in sports and other school activities.
No matter if you are a starter or sit on the bench, your hard work and dedication is much appreciated. Everything you do makes the team better. And thanks to the parents and family members who haul kids to practice a make sure they show up on time and have clean uniforms, shoes and whatever else they need. And thanks to all the coaches, assistant coaches and volunteers who spend hours coaching and working with young people making them better. And thanks to the students for going to practice and playing your hearts out each and every game. It’s a joy for me as a journalist to be at the games and school events taking photos and supporting the teams and events. Both Montezuma teams had great seasons on the hardwood as did the Grinnell Lady Tigers. The Braves lost in the district semifinal round to a tough Baxter team, 82-69. The Bravettes lost in the regional championship round to a good North Linn Lynx team, 69-40. And the Grinnell Lady Tigers also made it to the district final round, falling to Vinton-Shellsburg, 52-43, in Class 3A action. And there were five wrestlers who advanced to state from the three area schools. Thanks for all your hard work and dedication to the sport you love I don’t want to leave out speech and drama, FFA, school plays, music concerts, honor choirs, honor bands and so much more. I always enjoy promoting what the area young people are doing and their many successes, no matter if it is sports, academics or extracurricular activities. Outside of a brief stint running the mile in ninth grade, I didn’t participate in sports. I do remember one race that featured three ninth graders and two seventh graders. I ran my heart out and finished third in my grade. I was ahead of the second place finisher for three laps. I had some kick at the end, but it just wasn’t enough to catch him. I got a ribbon and I couldn’t have been happier to have finished the race. I went out for football my junior year, but didn’t make the cut. In the 1970s, Oklahoma high schools held spring drills. My good friend, David, and I showed up at the spring meeting our sophomore year. Some of the big football players laughed when we walked in the room. We didn’t pay it no mind as we were there to try. David had played football in junior high. I had not played before. Neither of us made the team. I kept falling down during drills and the coach sent me home. I went out for basketball in junior high and didn’t make the team. I was big, but not coordinated enough to play the game. And I played baseball in second grade, but spent more time star gazing then looking for the ball. I think I was scared of the ball. I do remember that when we won a game, we all got a cold Pepsi in the bottle. I enjoy high school sports, but also like college sports. My favorites are football, basketball and softball. Debbie and I enjoy watching softball and are OU Sooner fans. We are looking forward to going to watch the Sooners in late March when they play at ISU in Ames. We’ve seen OU in Ames three previous times. Two years ago, we met Paige Lowary at the game and got her autograph and had our picture taken with her. Lowary, who played her prep career at Dallas Center Grimes, started her college career at the University of Missouri-Columbia (2015-16), where she played two seasons before transferring to Oklahoma and helping led the Sooners to a second national championship in as many years in 2017. We hope she will be there again this year. I also had a chance to get OU Softball Coach Patty Gasso’s autograph at a game at ISU. After the end of one of the games, I saw her by the dugout and called her name. She came over and talked with me and autographed a softball and Sooner cap. Our dream is to attend the College World Series in June in Oklahoma City down the road. And soon it will be March Madness and basketball craziness in the Parker house. Have a great week and always remember that “Good Things are Happening,” every day and always. |
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