I am a 61 year old, father of two boys and have been happily married for 33 years. I have been a Physical Education teacher and coach for 38 years and have loved EVERY minute of it. I enjoy making people laugh and feel good about themselves. It’s fun collecting inspiring and heartwarming stories.from people. So, if you have a good story…let me know! I hope you enjoy my page!! :)
Remember:
Everyone is fighting a battle that you know nothing about.
Be kind.
Always.
If you enjoy the Christmas and Advent season, great tasting recipes and other good things then THIS SITE IS FOR YOU!! I am sure that you will enjoy it.
But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah though you are small among the clans of Judah, out of you will come for me one who will be ruler over Israel, whose origins are from of old, from ancient times. Therefore Israel will be abandoned until the time when she who is in labor gives birth and the rest of his brothers return to join the Israelites. He will stand and shepherd his flock in the strength of the Lord, in the majesty of the name of the Lord his God. And they will live securely, for then his greatness will reach to the end of the earth. And he will be their peace.
Recipe:
Cinnamon Toast
Ingredients:
1 slice of bread
Softened butter
1/4 cup sugar
1 tablespoon ground cinnamon
Directions:
Toast bread in toaster. Spread toast at once with softened butter. Combine sugar and cinnamon in shaker. Sprinkle some of…
Today, December 7, 2014, is the 73rd Anniversary of the day which President Franklin Roosevelt declared, “a day that will live in infamy”, the bombing of Pearl Harbor. During that fateful day, more than 2,300 people were killed and over another 1,100 individuals were wounded. One day later, the United States declared war on Japan. Three days later, Germany and Italy declared war on America…placing America right in the middle of World War 2.
I decided to do something a little different today and list some interesting and fascinating facts about this tragic day. I am sure that you will learn some new details that will present you some further insight and give you a deeper appreciation of what our military personnel faced that day.
—————-
The Japanese reportedly had intended to declare war prior to the attack. However, the message never got to the President.*
The entire attack lasted just under two hours, 110 minutes.
The Japanese also used submarines, including smaller ones called midget submarines, in the attack.*
The Japanese only lost 64 people that day.
When the USS Arizona was destroyed, it took with it, the lives of 1,177 servicemen.
The reason for choosing the attack on a Sunday morning was because the Japanese felt that Americans would be less alert on a weekend. Many U.S. servicemen were having their morning breakfast when the Japanese aircraft hit the U.S. Naval base. **
Eighteen ships, including five battleships, were sunk and 188 aircraft were destroyed while another 159 others damaged. The Japanese only lost 29 aircraft, five midget submarines and just 64 men.***
Although the Japanese aerial attack was very successful, their submarines failed to finish off any wounded ship inside the harbor.#
A U.S. army private who noticed the large flight of planes on his radar screen was told to ignore them because a flight of B-17’s from the continental US was expected at the time.#
Twenty-three sets of brothers died aboard the USS Arizona.##
The USS Arizona’s entire band was lost in the attack. It is the only time in American history that an entire military band had died in battle.##
The USS Arizona, the division 1 battleship docked at Pearl Harbor, is still leaking fuel. The ship had filled up her massive 1.5 million gallon tank the day before the attack. While much of the fuel was burned up in fires from the attack, experts say as much as 9 quarts leaks into the water daily. ###
Lt. Annie Fox was the first woman to receive a Purple Heart for being wounded in action and her leadership during the attack.###
“Good Time Stories” has been nominated and honored as a one of the first recipients of “The Harmony & Peace Award” by Dr. Rex, Writer and creator of “It Is What It Is”I would like to invite you to visit Dr. Rex’s blog page, “It Is What It Is”. Personally, I have always found her to be a lovely lady who constantly sends me words of encouragement and positive thoughts. Her web page, without a doubt, reflects her persona. I hope you enjoy it!
“I created this new award to celebrate all those who promote Harmony & Peace, and who add Love & Beauty to the world through their Blogs and through their lives. Their Positivity makes the world a better place for all of us.
~The Rules~
As most of you know by now, I am not big on rules, but here they are…
Give this award to seven bloggers who have added Harmony & Peace, Love & Beauty and Positivity to the world you live in.
Let them know that you nominated them.
Acknowledge the blogger from whom you received this award
Display your award on your blog, because you have earned it!
Hairball Express – Simply one of my all-time favorite blogs. Written from the perspective of a cat! Hilarious stuff…I love it!!
Fourth Generation Farm Girl – A great site that has it all…from the experience of an all – American farm girl that covers many fascinating topics!
Advent Celebration – This is new web page that features recipes and memories of the Advent season. Come back and visit the daily updates. You’ll enjoy this yummy and enjoyable site.
My 52 Sundays – A truly inspirational and uplifting page! Visit each day for special words of encouragement and awesome stories!
A day or so ago, I read the following story, written by Robert Peterson, who was the man mentioned in this story. It reminded me of how often we are so wrapped up the trials, troubles, or business of our everyday lives…that sometimes we don’t take the time to stop and really enjoy our life. We forget that other people might be dealing with their own hardships and we become careless with the words and actions towards them.
It is my hope that this story will touch your heart and remind you to take time to enjoy the life that you have and try to find uplifting and positive words that may help a person in need.
She was six years old when I first met her on the beach near where I live. I drive to this beach, a distance of three or four miles, whenever the world begins to close in on me. She was building a sand castle or something and looked up, her eyes as blue as the sea.
“Hello,” she said. I answered with a nod, not really in the mood to bother with a small child.
“I’m building,” she said.
“I see that. What is it?” I asked, not really caring.
“Oh, I don’t know, I just like the feel of sand.”
That sounds good, I thought, and slipped off my shoes. A sandpiper glided by.
“That’s a joy,” the child said.
“It’s a what?” I asked.
“It’s a joy, my mama says sandpipers come to bring us joy.” The bird went gliding down the beach.
“Good-bye joy,” I muttered to myself, “hello pain,” and turned to walk on. I was depressed; my life seemed completely out of balance.
“What’s your name?” She wouldn’t give up.
“Robert,” I answered. “I’m Robert Peterson.”
“Mine’s Wendy….I’m six.”
“Hi, Wendy.”
She giggled. “You’re funny,” she said. In spite of my gloom, I laughed too and walked on. Her musical giggle followed me.
“Come again, Mr. P,” she called. “We’ll have another happy day.”
The days and weeks that followed belonged to others; a group of unruly Boy Scouts, PTA meetings, and an ailing mother.
The sun was shining one morning as I took my hands out of the dishwater. “I need a sandpiper,” I said to myself, gathering up my coat. The ever-changing balm of the seashore awaited me. The breeze was chilly, but I strode along, trying to recapture the serenity I needed. I had forgotten the child and was startled when she appeared.
“Hello, Mr. P,” she said. “Do you want to play?”
“What did you have in mind?” I asked, with a twinge of annoyance.
“I don’t know, you say.”
“How about charades?” I asked sarcastically.
Her tinkling laughter burst forth again. “I don’t know what that is.”
“Then let’s just walk,” I said. Looking at her, I noticed the delicate fairness of her face. “Where do you live?” I asked.
“Over there.” She pointed toward a row of summer cottages. Strange, I thought, in winter.
“Where do you go to school?”
“I don’t go to school. Mommy says we’re on vacation.” She chattered little girl talk as we strolled up the beach, but my mind was on other things.
When I left for home, Wendy said it had been a happy day. Feeling surprisingly better, I smiled at her and agreed. Three weeks later, I rushed to the beach in a state of near panic. I was in no mood to even greet Wendy. I thought I saw her mother on the porch and felt like demanding she keep her child at home.
“Look, if you don’t mind,” I said crossly when Wendy caught up with me, “I’d rather be alone today.”
She seemed unusually pale and out of breath. “Why?” she asked.
I turned to her and shouted, “Because my mother died!” and thought, “My God, why was I saying this to a little child?”
“Oh,” she said quietly, “then this is a bad day.”
“Yes,” I said, “and yesterday and the day before and – oh, go away!”
“Did it hurt?” she inquired
“Did what hurt?” I was exasperated with her, with myself.
“When she died?” she asked.
“Of course it hurt!” I snapped, misunderstand, wrapped up in myself. I strode off.
A month or so after that, when I next went to the beach, she wasn’t there. Feeling guilty, ashamed and admitting to myself I missed her, I went up to the cottage after my walk and knocked at the door. A drawn looking young woman with honey-colored hair opened the door.
“Hello,” I said. “I’m Robert Peterson. I missed your little girl today and wondered where she was.”
“Oh, yes, Mr. Peterson, please come in. Wendy spoke of you so much. I’m afraid I allowed her to bother you. If she was a nuisance, please, accept my apologies.”
“Not at all-she’s a delightful child,” I said, suddenly realizing that I meant what I had just said.
“Wendy died last week, Mr. Peterson. She had leukemia. Maybe she didn’t tell you.”
Struck dumb, I groped for a chair. I had to catch my breath.
“She loved this beach; so when she asked to come, we couldn’t say no. She seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called “happy days. But the last few weeks, she declined rapidly…” Her voice faltered.
“She left something for you…if only I can find it. Could you wait a moment while I look?” I nodded stupidly, my mind racing for something to say to this lovely young woman.
She handed me a smeared envelope with “Mr. P” printed in bold, childish letters. Inside was a drawing in bright crayon hues – a yellow beach, a blue sea, and a brown bird. Underneath was carefully printed: A SANDPIPER TO BRING YOU JOY.
Tears welled up in my eyes and a heart that had almost forgotten how to love opened wide. I took Wendy’s mother in my arms. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.” I muttered over and over, and we wept together.
The precious little picture is framed now and hangs in my study. Six words – one for each year of her life – that speak to me of harmony, courage, and undemanding love. A gift from a child with sea-blue eyes and hair the color of sand – who taught me the gift of love.
NOTE:
This is a true story sent out by Robert Peterson. It serves as a reminder to all of us that we need to take time to enjoy life, living, and each other.
“The price of hating other human beings is loving oneself less.” Life is so complicated, the hustle and bustle of everyday traumas can make us lose focus about what is truly important and what is only a momentary setback or crisis. Today, tomorrow, be sure to give your loved ones an extra hug, and by all means, take a moment….even if it is only ten seconds, to stop and smell the roses
I would like to take this time to personally invite you to visit my wife’s new blog pare created especially made for this time of year “Advent Celebrations.”Starting December 1 and all the way to Christmas Day, find new, daily holiday recipes, memories and passages from Scripture that will certainly put a smile on your face and a song in your heart.
There are times throughout our lives that we can face situations that are very hard and difficult to deal with…finances, a job, a marriage, depression, health issues or numerous circumstances. Sometimes, there are issues that occur with a person that an individual cannot do much about but make the best of the “hand that they were dealt.” Nevertheless, the way a person handles their situation will greatly effect the direction of their life. They can either persevere, face their adversity with a positive attitude and decide to inspire others or become depressed and disheartened.
I recently came across the following story of Kayla Montgomery. This story is not just an inspiring tale but it is also one of the best examples of perseverance that I have come across over the past few months.
It is my hope and desire that it may inspire someone to look at an unfortunate circumstance that they may be dealing with, with a positive outlook and attitude.
Photo Credit: Army Corps of Engineers via Cc Flickr
This is a re-post of a story that I posted a year or so ago on another blog of mine that was written by Steve Goodier.
At first it sounded like a Thanksgiving story, but the more I reflected on it, the more appropriate it seemed for any time of the year. The way I heard it, the story went like this:
Thanksgiving Day was near. The first grade teacher gave her class a fun assignment — to draw a picture of something for which they were thankful.
Most of the class might be considered economically disadvantaged, but still many would celebrate the holiday with turkey and other traditional goodies of the season. These, the teacher thought, would be the subjects of most of her student’s art. And they were.
But Douglas made a different kind of picture. Douglas was a different kind of boy. He was the teacher’s true child of misery, frail and unhappy. As other children played at recess, Douglas was likely to stand close by her side. One could only guess at the pain Douglas felt behind those sad eyes.
Yes, his picture was different. When asked to draw a picture of something for which he was thankful, he drew a hand. Nothing else. Just an empty hand.
His abstract image captured the imagination of his peers. Whose hand could it be? One child guessed it was the hand of a farmer, because farmers raise turkeys. Another suggested a police officer, because the police protect and care for people. Still others guessed it was the hand of God, for God feeds us. And so the discussion went — until the teacher almost forgot the young artist himself.
When the children had gone on to other assignments, she paused at Douglas’ desk, bent down, and asked him whose hand it was. The little boy looked away and murmured, “It’s yours, teacher.”
She recalled the times she had taken his hand and walked with him here or there, as she had the other students. How often had she said, “Take my hand, Douglas, we’ll go outside.” Or, “Let me show you how to hold your pencil.” Or, “Let’s do this together.” Douglas was most thankful for his teacher’s hand.
Brushing aside a tear, she went on with her work.
The story speaks of more than thankfulness. It says something about teachers teaching and parents parenting and friends showing friendship, and how much it means to the Douglases of the world. They might not always say thanks. But they’ll remember the hand that reaches out.
Thanksgiving is without question, one of my favorite holidays of the year. There is nothing nicer than being outside either watching or playing a football in the crisp fall air, then returning indoors, into a house that is warm and filled with the mouth-watering smells of a cooking turkey, various pies, stuffing, and other tasty foods. Laughing, talking, and spending our time with our family, friends and loved ones is simply priceless.
As much as I enjoy sharing my own personal memories with you, I thought, a week or so ago, that it would be an interesting idea to ask my fellow bloggers what their favorite thing about Thanksgiving might be. The following accounts are what some of them decided to share with you! I would like to ask you to visit their blogs when you have a moment.
A few things my husband never fails to remind me of, every single Thanksgiving:
1. the time I cooked the turkey with the giblets packet still inside the bird. I thought I got everything out. I don’t even eat turkey–I’m vegan! He thought it was strange they didn’t include the innards to make gravy…
2. The first time I cooked our turkey, I roasted it upside down. It was crazy trying to watch that little thing pop up to let me know the bird was done..
3. The time my husband tried to ‘help’ me take the bird out of the oven. I think a tad bit of the pain touched his arm–and he dropped the entire pan on the floor. Turkey and drippings EVERYWHERE. Needless to say, the pan wasn’t the only thing that was hot.
Time with family–without pressure of gifts, lounging around on a couch stuffed bigger than the turkey until my aunt decides that it’s time for a family walk around the neighborhood. Stuffing, cranberries, bread, turkey, wine, yams, and everyone saying what he or she is thankful for.
Being the middle child, I’ve lived in the shadow of my older and younger sisters. Yet one of my talents shines through on Thanksgiving and I feel special, even irreplaceable. I make the best challah (Jewish egg braided bread) anyone has ever eaten. It’s simply not Thanksgiving without “Lorna’s bread.” I’m very grateful for the bread, the fact that everyone enjoys it so much, and for the yearly recognition!
My Favorite Thing About Thanksgiving Is the memory of my dad teaching me to carve a turkey. We would work on it together and because I was his helper I got to be the first to taste the turkey as we worked. He was second to taste, thats the kind of person he was letting his assistant have the first taste! We would carve the whole turkey at once so we were done with it for the day, my mom would immediately put the carcass in the big pot of water for turkey soup. What a wonderful skill to have, I often volunteer to carve the turkey at gatherings and I have gotten very fast over the years. Each time I carve a turkey I remember those days of sharing the task with my dad and the two of us sneaking tastes of the turkey as we worked.
————————
Karen
Macy’s parade on TV, followed by the dog show…the ONE day dinner is AT the table with family (and often including friends, who’d otherwise be alone)…also, last year, passing the “torch” to my daughter, to do the “honors” of cooking the meal in HER home was a proud moment for me!
When I think of Thanksgiving, I’m reminded of the smell of homemade dressing baking in the oven. It’s an old family recipe that’s been passed down from my great-grandmother. Grandma and Mom made it every year: sautéing onions and celery, mixing with bread crumbs and turkey broth and then preparing it into little patties that they would bake and place on a platter. It just wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without it!
I’m thankful for family and good food. Being from a family that loves sports, we always take in a few football games. There are lots of spectacular games this time of the year as teams play their rivals and a lot is on the line.
When dinner was done, my PopPop would sit at the head of the table and I would occupy his lap. Nana placed the turkey carcass in front of us and he would tell me stories while we picked it clean. He is gone now, and I am much older, but I have never forgotten that time with him, feeling like the Princess of the Thanksgiving table.
“Good Time Stories” has been nominated and honored as a one of the first recipients of “The Harmony & Peace Award” by Dr. Rex, Writer and creator of 
My Good Time Stories 