Chapters of My Life

Balloon Ascending

2012-01-02T13:06:00.003-05:00

On January 1, 2012, after church two of my grandsons and I were sitting in the car eating a sandwich when we noticed that someone let loose of a helium balloon, and it began to ascend into the sky. We were all taken aside by the sight, and the boys enjoyed seeing it ascend slowly into the cloudy sky. We sat there staring into the clouds, watching this beautiful, green balloon travel away from us, seemingly getting smaller and smaller as it floated into the distance.

As I watched the balloon disappear as it went into one of the low-lying clouds, I said to the boys, "Boys, just stay the way you are. Don't move!" As they froze in position, I explained that the surprise on their faces was somewhat like it must have been with our Lord's disciples as they watched Jesus ascend into the heavens just as the balloon had done. If we are in wonder at this sight, how much more must the disciples have been in wonder at the ascension of their Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

I pray this was an object lesson that will not soon be forgotten. Sometimes we as believers forget things we should remember often. Jesus has gone back into heaven, and on to the "heaven of heavens" to sit at the right hand of God (Col. 3:1-3). He is there to make intercession for us forever, and we are guaranteed a home in heaven because of the eternal work of our High Priest, Jesus Christ.

Paul expresses a recap of the work of Christ in 1 Tim.3:16 And without controversy great is the mystery of godliness: God was manifest in the flesh, justified in the Spirit, seen of angels, preached unto the Gentiles, believed on in the world, received up into glory.

Dog In The Ice Box

2010-12-14T16:16:00.005-05:00

When I was about seven years old, my family and I lived on the Morgan-Cardova Road in Pendleton County, Kentucky, on a farm owned by Earl Wallace. While playing with our little beagle dog one day, for some reason I decided to put the dog in one of the compartments in an old ice box that we had, which did not have any ice in it at the time.

I went off to play and completely forgot about the dog. Later, we heard the little dog crying, and we could not figure out where he was. I did not remember putting him into the ice box. We looked all through the house, under the house, and everywhere we could think of in order to find the little dog.

The cries got fainter and fainter (I think the poor little dog was about to die), and at last I remembered what I had done. I felt so badly about it that I hesitated to tell anyone what I had done, but then I thought how bad it would be if the dog did actually die. So, then, I went into the house, opened the door on the little compartment on the ice box and let the dog out. Believe it or not, he was so proud to see me. I was also glad to see him (alive!). I do not remember whether I got any punishment for that, but I never did it again. And the dog remained my friend. How many humans would remain a friend after all of that?

Entering College

2010-04-23T16:57:00.003-05:00

I graduated from High School in 1962 at the age of 17 years. The principal of the school, Mr. Beck, had spoken to me about going to college, since the state would pay my way. He recommended (or the state did) that I go to Fugazzi Business College in Lexington, Kentucky. However, I was determined to stay out of school for a while, since I had been going to school for twelve long years.

After graduation I went to visit my uncle and aunt, Carl and Frances Raney, who lived on Limaburg Road in Burlington, Kentucky. I had decided that I was not going to take the offer given to me by the school. After being at my relatives' house for a couple of days, my mother called me and said, "If you want to go to school, you need to be in Lexington tomorrow." For some reason (I don't really know why), I said, "OK, come and get me."

My parents picked me up and took me home. The next day my parents and I made the trip to Lexington, Kentucky. We spent most of the day identifying the house where I was going to sleep and another house just up the street where I was to eat my meals. We went to the school to see where it was (about a mile away from the house where I slept), and talked with the school officials. I met the woman who owned the house where I slept, and I met the woman who was going to fix my meals for me.

After all of this was accomplished, my mother and father both said good-bye to me; and they went back home, leaving me standing on the sidewalk in Lexington, not knowing anyone as a friend and in a city that was overwhelming to this young, vulnerable country boy.

My heart sank as I made my way back into the house where I was to sleep upstairs. Mrs. Cliff owned the house. I had only one room, and I had to share a bathroom with two or three other men. Every room in the house was filled with what today we would call antiques. I slept in a bed with very tall posts on the corners. Across the room from the bottom of the bed stood a dresser with a swivel mirror on it. The lamps were ancient, and the rug on the floor was reminiscent of a period of by-gone days. Some people would call it rustic; I called it musty. A small table sat beside the bed upon which I kept my tick-tock alarm clock. I arose at 5:30 in the mornings in order to get to the bathroom for my bath before the other men got up to use it and so that I could be at breakfast at the house up the street by 7:00 AM.

Breakfasts were great. Mrs. Jordan, who owned the house, was a great cook. She cooked for about eight to ten men, some who rented rooms from her, and some who came in from other places. That first morning at breakfast, after I finished my breakfast, Mrs. Jordan asked me to come into the kitchen. Then she proceeded to give me a sack lunch to take to school with me. She did that every morning.

I walked to school nearly a mile carrying a book satchel and a bag lunch. In those days that was not a long walk for me. However, in the winter it was very trying to walk through some of the deep snows that came, especially early in the morning before the sidewalks were cleaned. One morning that first winter I walked to school in a temperature of -14F degrees. When I arrived at school, I was so cold that it took nearly all day for my body to thaw. Then I had to walk back home that afternoon after school was over.

My mother would give me $3.95 each week to purchase a bus ticket that took me back home on the weekends and brought me back to Lexington on Sunday afternoon. I would walk to and from the bus station, which was about a mile from my house. Before I left to go home for the weekend, I would change my book satchel from carrying books to carrying clothes, which my mother would wash so that I could take them back to Lexington clean. I may take one book to do some homework, and the rest was clothes.

The first week of my stay in Lexington, I could not go home for two weeks according to my parents. I remember how homesick I was, since I did not know anyone in the whole big city of Lexington. I believe it was on Saturday of that first week I saw a young boy across the street working on his bicycle, so I walked over to him and asked his name. His name was James Ellard Cecil. He was about 11 or 12 years old. We became very good friends, and after that sometimes I would eat at their house just to have some fellowship with someone I knew. It did not take long until I had several friends, and being only 17 years old that summer, most of my friends were the kids in the neighborhood. I told them that my father's nickname was Pinky, so the kids in the neighborhood called me Pinky. Later I told them my middle name was Willard, and they began to call me Willie. They had a very peculiar practice there. If they wanted to see me, they would stand out in front of of the house and say, "Oh, Willy Babe!" If I did not answer, they would continue until I had no choice but to come out. We would go to a famous place called Bell Court, and I would stay around with them while they played what they called Flashlight Tag. A couple of times a neighbor woman called the police on the kids, but the police would just come and say, "Just keep it down a little, OK? Then we would try to be little quieter.

After about a month of loneliness and homesickness, I finally was used to the city life, and I began to enjoy the great city of Lexington.

Contacting Polio

2010-01-12T17:42:00.003-05:00

Traveling east on Highway 22 from Williamstown, Kentucky, about seven miles from Williamstown, there sits an old building on the left side of the road near Locust Grove, Kentucky. The building now has a garage door on the front, but many years ago this was a grocery store. At one time, in the 1940's, my grandfather ran this store with the help of my mother and father.

We lived next door to this building, which was in much better condition then. The house still sits there, and it has been kept and is in good condition. I still have some pictures of myself along with some of my family, standing beside the store building beside two large gas pumps where people could purchase gasoline for their cars.

In the month of July in 1947, my family had awakened for the day, but (according to my oldest brother) I did not arise with everyone else. After a while, my mother called me to come down from upstairs. She told me that I first did not answer; then I said, "I cannot walk." She thought that I was teasing her, so she sent my oldest brother upstairs to persuade me to come down to breakfast. After going up the stairs to bring me down, he answered back, "He really can't walk." So, my mother brought me downstairs and began to try to walk me around the house to see if the problem was simply my legs being numb from sleeping on them. But that was not the problem.

After a while, my parents decided to take me to the doctor. Several doctors found several things wrong with me, but they finally said to my parents, "Take him to the hospital." They took me to Children's Hospital in Cincinnati, Ohio, where almost immediate the doctors determined that I had had Polio.

I stayed in the hospital for nine months. When I went home for a visit from the hospital at Christmas time (my mother said), I asked when the children were going to go home. I had forgotten that I had brothers and sisters.

I began to wear braces and use crutches when I was about four years old. I went to public school, attended business college, Bible college at Lexington Baptist College, took classes at Austin Peay State University in Tennessee, done further education other places, and God has blessed through the years.

Now the Polio is coming back to cause pain, which it had never done before. This is called Post-Polio Syndrome. This is the way life goes, but I enjoy serving the Lord, even though in my older age I cannot do as much as I could when I was young.

Soon I will write about the time my mother took me to a "faith healer."

Jumping Out Of The Barn

2010-01-05T10:57:00.003-05:00

When I was about 12 years old, my brothers and I decided that, since a large stack of loose hay resided in a stall of the barn, it would be a good idea, perhaps, to climb to the top of the rafters in the barn and jump onto the hay below.

I watched as two of my brothers climbed to what seemed a mile to the top of the barn. Sitting on a rafter, each one would sit for a moment or two trying to determine how they were going to fall onto the hay. The fall through the air seemed almost in slow motion as I looked on from below. After both brothers had jumped onto the hay and enjoyed the fall, I decided it was time for me to do the same. Now, I was quite a climber in those days. I had to use my arms exclusively, since my legs were not usable, having been paralyzed from Polio.

I removed both braces from my legs but not my shoes from my feet. I could simply pull out the metal bilaterals from the heel of each shoe to remove the braces without removing the shoes. I climbed slowly but surely to the top of the barn and sat on the same rafter on which my brothers had sat. I thought it required that I sit there a moment or so (just as my brothers had done) in order to do this deed correctly.

Then I conjured the courage, bravery, fortitude, and senseless idiocy to fall from this rafter. What seemed a mile below now seemed to be two miles looking from top to bottom rather than from bottom to top of the barn. Finally I let my hands loose from whatever they were holding to, and I fell, not slowly, but speedily down, down, down. When I hit the loose hay, I was considerably thankful that the event was over, quick and to the point. I felt the softness of the hay hug my shoulders, but first I felt something that would change my mind forever about doing something so foolish again. As I fell onto the hay, I sat down on a small, metal piece on my shoe that held my braces onto the shoe. I shall never forget the instant and excruciating pain that I felt in my hip as I sat onto the hay.

My opinion of this challenging event changed forever. A few moments before, my thoughts were excited and interested in such a new-type adventure; but now my thoughts were hesitant and worried about doing such a thing again. Consequently, I have never had either the serious thought or the desire to jump from the top of a barn onto loose hay again. Let's see, from 12 to 65, that makes 53 years now that I have not wanted to do such a thing. I hope I make it a few more years without having the desire to tumble ridiculously through the air onto anything. Thank God for his watchcare and his longsuffering to usward.

Bible Memory Verses--Free

2009-06-30T19:52:00.000-05:00

My grandson was proud of himself after having said a Bible memory verse in Vacation Bible School. The second night of Bible School he told me about saying the verse to his teacher, so I told him he needed to learn another Bible verse.

After a few seconds he took out his Bible, opened it, and said, "I am going to cheat; there are a whole bunch of them in here."

Way to go, grandson!

Cover For Dad

2009-06-05T20:04:00.001-05:00

My son, Chris Wolfe, came home from work with a very strong headache on evening. He did what he had to do to feed his three boys and do a few other things. Then he lay down on the couch and went to sleep.

When he woke up at about 2:00 AM, he looked around an found his three boys asleep in their beds. He also noticed that he had blanket on him. He took the blanket and went into his bedroom, and his bed was made, which he usually does in the morning but did not feel like doing it that day. This was very curious to him.

The next morning, when everyone got up, Chris' son, Brandon, told him that he had put a blanket on him so he could sleep better and that he made his bed, because he knew his dad liked for his bed to be made.

That is a very sweet thing for a young boy to do for his dad. Don't you just love it?

Brother Hurt

2009-06-05T19:46:00.002-05:00

My grandsons were at my house on May 31, 2009. I brought them to my house after church on Sunday morning, as usual. It was a beautiful day, and the boys went outside to play. They were playing in the woods when the oldest, Eric, decided to play a trick on his two smaller brothers, Brandon and Colin. He came into the house and told me he was going to go into the woods and paint himself with red marker, then come out of the woods in front of his brothers screaming that someone beat him up.

After telling me this, he went outside, and I stayed in the house. Not long after, Eric came into the house with marker all over his face, his arms, and his legs. His brothers followed him into the house. He was telling them how someone beat him, and he was bleeding. His brothers seemed to be concerned.

I thought the older brother understood that Eric was only making believe, but I was not sure about the younger one. I went along with the charade and told the brothers that I may have to call 911. The younger brother said, "Why aren't you calling 911?" I said, "I will if I have to."

We sat around a few moments with Eric lying on the floor and complaining as though he were in pain. Brandon came up behind me and said, "Colin is crying." I asked Colin why he was crying, and he said it was because his brother was hurt.

I told Eric it was time to stop the "play-like." I had to comfort Colin a little, but things worked out well. Eric had to go to the bathroom and wash off the marker.

Uncle Jim Blackburn

2009-02-03T09:54:00.003-05:00

I recently received an e-mail from a third cousin inquiring about some of the Blackburn family. I had mentioned my Uncle Jim, and he remembered him. My Great Uncle Jim (James Kennedy Blackburn) used to come to our house from time to time. Somewhere back in my old pictures I have a picture of him, sitting in a chair in our yard speaking with my mother and father.

Once my older brother placed a firecracker under Uncle Jim's chair and lit it. When it went off, Uncle Jim jumped very high. My brother was in trouble after that, and I don't remember my Uncle Jim's ever coming back to our house after that. I may be exaggerating a little (I simply don't remember fore sure whether he came back or not).

In those days firecrackers were much more powerful than they are today. Today they are toys compared to the ones we used when I was a child. They were very dangerous. I am surprised that none of us was ever hurt from these firecrackers.

My Grandson's First Joke

2009-01-12T19:31:00.002-05:00

It is always interesting and even exciting to see a young girl or boy begin to understand and to laugh at jokes. It shows that he or she is growing and becoming more aware of words and of the world around him.

Once in a restaurant while my grandson, Eric, and I were being hosted to dinner by an older couple, we were sitting at the table having our regular conversations about this and that. Then the lady told a joke. After this I thought it might be in good taste for me to tell a joke.

I told the joke about the man who visited his friends in Texas, and they each told him that everything is big in Texas. While at a restaurant eating with his friends, the man who was visiting ordered a drink of iced tea. The glass was so large that he commented, "Boy, things ARE big in Texas." When the waitress brought the food, he noticed that the helpings were very large. Again he said, "Boy, things ARE big in Texas."

After a while, the man excused himself to go to the bathroom. His friends told him it was down the hall and the third door on the left. Well, on his way he forgot and went into the third door on the right. After a while, his friends were worried about him and went to look for him. They looked in the bathroom, and the man was not there. Then they went to the third door on the right and saw the man who had fallen in the swimming pool and he was crying, "Don't flush it! Don't flush it!"

Well, you and I have heard that joke many times, and we laugh every time. When I told it at the table, the older man and woman laughed, and we went on finishing our meal. After a few seconds, I happened to look at my grandson, and I noticed that his mouth was shut very tightly and he was about to burst out with a sound. He had a smiley smirk on his face, and I knew what had happened. After all the jokes that he had heard us tell, this is the first one that really hit him as funny. He almost fell out of his chair laughing. Even after we left the restaurant, from time to time he would laugh out a little, and I realized that he was remembering the joke.

This was a lot of fun, and now he is aware of many of the jokes he hears. This is all a part of growing up, and I like to see it. If you cannot laugh at jokes, maybe you have not grown up as much as my grandson.

Half-Dollar Lost

2008-10-30T10:27:00.003-05:00

When my family and I lived on Earl Wallace's place in Pendleton County, Kentucky, I was seven years old. One day I had a half dollar and was playing with it on the floor. In the floor was a small knothole, and I was trying to see which was larger, the half dollar or the hole. All at a sudden I found that the hole was just a little larger than the half dollar, and I dropped the half dollar in the hole. After my initial fear subsided, I just placed the event of the lost half dollar in the back of my mind and accepted the fact that I would never see it again.

My brother, Vernon, called me from Florida the other day and reminded me of that lost half dollar; but don't think it took him to remind me, because I have had this lost coin in the back of my mind ever since I lost it in 1951. Part of the old house is still standing, and I have often thought that I would like to go back and see if I could find that half dollar. You would think I would forget about this sometime, but I cannot forget that lonely half dollar lying there all these years waiting for me to find it. I am now 64 years old, and that little thing is still there as far as I know.

Now, what if I go there to find the coin and find that someone has got there sooner and has stolen my coin? Well, I suppose that then I would need to investigate the crime and see if I can find out who stole my coin. Then I could take them to the law and have them to pay back my half dollar. But then it would not be the same half dollar, I suppose.

You may think I am making too much of this little thing, but remember that one half dollar can purchase a stick or two of gum, or if I invest it, it may bring another half dollar in about 10 to 20 years. If I do not find this half dollar, just realize how much I have lost. If I could invest it for 20 years and realize another 50 cents, I would be 84 years old. Maybe by then I will be able to put it with another $99.00 and purchase a sweater for my thin blood. Won't that be nice!

Chapter 4 - First Awareness

2008-01-08T10:34:00.000-05:00

Most everyone tries to remember the first time he was aware of his surroundings and of his existence. I have tried to do this many time. My mother used to ask me if I remember anything before I had Polio at the age of 2 1/2 years old, so I would try my best to remember those days. As best I could, I would develop images in my mind of things I at least thought I remembered. Sometimes I think I have created events in my mind which are not real, thinking that I am remembering actual events.

The first thing I "think" I remember may be before I had Polio in 1947. I remember (I think) sitting on the porch of my grandfather's home where we lived. I was looking out toward a barn to my left. I can see the terrain as I look toward this barn. To my knowledge, no one ever described this to me; so I am almost persuaded that this was a real memory. When I described this scene to my mother, she correct it a little, but the content of the memory seems to be real. That is when I "became alive" to myself. I seem to remember it well.

But that is not when I REALLY became alive. The time that I remember really coming alive is when I was 13 years old, when I was convicted of my sins and trusted Jesus Christ as my personal Savior. This is real life. It matters not what I remember in this life; it matters only that I know in whom I have believed and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day. God is really great! My life is real!

Chapter 3 - Missing Boys

2007-02-01T10:33:00.000-05:00

When my wife, Shirley, my three boys, and I lived in Chesapeake, Ohio, I was pastor of the Mt. Pleasant Baptist Church. We enjoyed three years of service there. While there, as usual, my wife and I put our three small boys to bed. They almost always went right to sleep, and we heard nothing until the next morning.

About 20 minutes after we had put the boys to bed, I received a phone call from Bro. Max Pemberton, who was a neighbor down the road and a member of our church. He said, "Are you missing some boys?" I said, "No, I just put them to bed a few minutes ago, and they are asleep." Then he said, "Well, there are three little boys standing here in my living room that look exactly like your boys."

Alarmed, I hurried down to his house and picked up three little boys who actually did look exactly like my boys. My oldest boy, Scottie, had planned to run away from home. He talked the other two boys into going with him. He had placed a concrete block under the window outside the house so tjavascript:void(0)
Publish Posthey could climb out the window after we put them in bed. Scottie was about five years old, and the other two were two and three years old. The highway just in front of our house was very busy, but the Lord protected the boys from any injuries, thankfully. My youngest boy Chris, carried his pillow with him for security.

When I got the boys home, I put the two smaller boys to bed, but I kept Scottie up for a while scolding him for what he had done and reminded him of the danger to him and his two brothers by doing what he did. Finally, I put him to bed, also. Things were fine after that except for one thing.

The next Summer I stopped at a yard sale a mile or two from my house, and I told the lady there who I was--the pastor of Mt. Pleasant Baptist Church. She said, "Oh, are you the one who had the three little boys to run away?" Boy, did I feel really small! I admitted that I was, and we had a little laugh out of it, but I said, "I suppose everyone in the neighborhood knows about this." She said, "Yep." Some in the neighborhood may think that I left Mt. Pleasant Baptist Church because of this, but that is not true. Now my wife--that may be a different matter (ha,ha)!

Chapter 2 - Growing Up

2007-01-21T11:19:00.000-05:00

The first thing that I can remember is being five years old and living in a small town in Pendleton County, Kentucky, called Morgan. This little town sits along the Licking River off Highway 330.

We lived in a two-room house behind the Morgan School. I remember this house well. There was a room on the right as you go into the house and one on the left. The room on the right was our Living Room (or Front Room) and a Bedroom. I remember we had two living-room chairs, one full-sized bed, and a roll-away bed in that room. My three brothers slept in the roll-away, my mother and father slept in the full-sized bed, and my sister slept in the kitchen on a roll-away. Sometimes the elderly lady who owned the house would stay all night with us, and she slept in the kitchen with my sister.

On the back left side of the house was a very small porch. On that porch we had wood piled up for warming the house in the winter and for using in the cook stove in the kitchen.

Often my mother would take out the wash tub, pour boiling water in it and then add cold water to make bath water for me and my brother, Jerry, who was my foster brother and eight months older than I was. We would both get into the tub for a bath. My brother never liked bathes; I didn't have much problem with them.

I started school in the first grade while we lived there, because we did not have Kindergarten.

I remember there were lots of snakes there, since we lived close to the river. Once a snake got under our house where a chicken would lay eggs, and the snake would eat them. This large black snake would go out to the large tree in the front yard, circle around the tree, and burst the egg inside. One day my father came home and saw the snake on the tree and kill it with an axe. The snake was still pregnant with the egg. This was quite a sight to see.

More next time ...

Chapter 1 - Ronnie Wolfe

2004-12-19T20:21:00.000-05:00

Many who read this will remember the events of the year 1944. It was near the end of World War II. The month was September. My mother and father, Lola (Blackburn) and Willard Wolfe, already had three living children. Two others had died as infants. On the 23rd of September, my mother went to Booth Hospital in Covinton, Kentucky, and brought me into this world. I was, according to the hospital records, a premature baby.

We lived in a little neighborhood in Pendleton County, Kentucky, on a road named Fishing Creek Pike. We lived on a farm in a house rented from a Mrs. Race. I have never in my adult life been to that house, but my younger sister says that my father took her to see the house. I am not even sure that the house is standing today.

We moved from place to place as I grew. We lived with my grandfather, Francis Blackburn, while I was very small. He owned a farm just off Highway 1054 in Pentleton County. Later, my grandfather began to run a grocery store at a place called Locust Grove. While living there and my parents' helping my grandfather run the store, in the month of July, 1947, I contacted Polio at the age of two years old. I do not remember any of the events surrounding this occasion of my life; I have only been told about them.

When I first had Polio, I was first placed into Children's Hospital in Cincinnati. I suppose this is where the doctors finally realized that I had Polio. My parents had taken me to five doctors and could not find out what the problem was with my walking. I could not walk. The last doctor sent me to the hospital, and very soon the doctors realized that I had had Polio. After being in Children's Hospital for a few months, I was transferred to St. Elizabeth Hospital in Covington, Kentucky. Through the years, until at 17 years of age I left home to live in Lexington, Kentucky, to go to school, I went to St. Elizabeth Hospital almost every six months. This has helped me to be very compatible to visiting hospitals today in my vocation as pastor of a Baptist Church.