Showing posts with label teach. Show all posts
Showing posts with label teach. Show all posts

Thursday, July 30, 2015

Photo Friday - Bells Part 16

It's been a couple of crazy Photo Fridays. Last week, I dropped the bell theme in order to pay tribute to my Grandpa Van Vorhis, who died July 21.

This week, I return to the bells on Photo Friday, this time paying tribute to my other grandfather and his father. But it can't be that easy, or I wouldn't be me. My unintended motto seems to be "take something simple and make it insanely difficult." So in true form, I am posting this Photo Friday on Thursday. Because it naturally makes sense, of course.

The real reason is that I have special posts to run on both Friday and Saturday. So in the name of the Greater Good, here is Photo Friday, on Thursday....

This week's topic is my Great-Grandpa Lance's school bell. My Great-Grandfather, who was bit by a raccoon and died of rabies (that's the simple version of the story), was a teacher. Somewhere in a box, I have stored away some of his old teaching books, including a really cool, old copy of Evangeline. My Grandpa Lance received and displayed his teaching bell, and when he died, Grandma kept it on display. On Sunday, it was passed down to me, and I am pleased to receive it. Check it out, then read more below!


Here is my bell in black and white, which sits on top of an
really cool antique dresser that I will pick up this weekend.

So while I was at Grandpa Van Vorhis's visitation on Thursday, I finally learned which house my Grandpa Lance was born in. I always knew what street he was born on, but I never knew which house. It was a short street, and there were only like 12 houses to choose from. My mom always told me it was a brick house, so that cut the options down to two.

It turns out my mom was wrong....it wasn't a brick house. The Commodores would be disappointed. But it turns out that one of the brick houses that I originally thought he was born in was actually once the home of a Civil War drummer. I learned all sorts of things at my Grandpa Van Vorhis's visitation and funeral.

My Grandpa Lance was actually born in another (not brick) house on the opposite side and opposite end of the street. He was born in THIS house:

The house my Grandpa Lance was born in. Photo taken July 28, 2015.

Sunday, June 21, 2015

"Look Daddy. Paste it."

"Look Daddy. Paste it."

It is an innocent, heart-felt request from a little girl of about 4 years old. Something she loves has broken and she wants her dad to fix it.

Dad and the deck project.
Most of us have done this. We have asked our fathers to fix something. When we were young, we looked up to our fathers as magical beings. They could do anything. Somehow, they could do the impossible and it always left us with a sense of awe and wonder. As we grew older and needed more adult help - like replacing a hot water heater or building a deck or replacing a roof, or fixing a garbage disposal, we knew dad could help. And he never let us down.

Now that I'm older, I realize that I didn't pay nearly enough attention to the lessons. I can't solder two copper pipes together to save my life. Dad tried to show me how. I just took it for granted that he would always be here to do it, and I wouldn't have to know how to do it myself. That was short-sighted. It makes me wonder what life lessons I missed or screwed up on.

I was a bit of a block-head that way. People tried to teach me things and I didn't really learn from it. If 40-year-old me could go back and talk to 12-year-old me, I'd box my own ears, get in my own face and tell my self to learn something.

The good news is that in a way, I can still heed that late lesson. I still have the opportunity to follow the advice of Sweet Caporal cigarettes:
Source: http://www.alwaysjacked.com/2013/02/how-brands-and-dad-bloggers-should-work-together/
In the mean time, I realize that I'm a dad now and my kids are reaching the age that I can start teaching them how to do stuff. And I find myself praying that they will listen and learn better than I did.

I also keep my fingers crossed that there is no immediate need to enlist dad's aid on any more large crisis-type projects.

I CAN tell my dad thank you. I didn't listen as much as I should have, but that doesn't mean I didn't appreciate it, or that I don't love you.

Or as George tells his dad, "Pop, do you want a shock? I think you're a great guy." Happy Father's Day.