tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-195460382024-03-07T19:54:51.252-08:00What's Up Bein?Thoughts, ideas, things on my mind. From the mind of a small town man who grew up in Northwest Ohio and now lives in Visalia, CA. Concerns and observations of our ever changing world. Whatever pops into my mind.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger109125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19546038.post-75477678868184966172021-12-09T20:50:00.000-08:002021-12-09T20:50:04.323-08:00Christmas 2021<p> <span style="font-family: Noteworthy-Light; font-size: 12px;">Hello Friends and Family,</span></p>
<p style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Noteworthy-Light;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Another year has come and gone. Of course it started with Covid 19. We were happy to complete our vaccinations in mid February and received our booster at the end of October. We feel fortunate to have these vaccinations, but we are still careful. We stayed pretty healthy throughout the year.</span></p>
<p style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Noteworthy-Light;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The year also started with shock and sadness when my brother-in-law Craig Johnson had a massive stroke in January and died in February. The shock was that he seemed so healthy and full of life. Craig and I were friends. Good friends over the years. Ten months later it’s still hard to believe. And of course things like this make us all think about our own mortality and how to move forward in our lives. </span></p>
<p style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Noteworthy-Light;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Two weeks after we completed our second vaccination we went to Palm Dessert with our good friends Chuck and Debbi. It was nice “getting out of dodge” so to speak. The highlight for me was playing on a Pete Dye golf course and not embarrassing myself. We also went to Joshua Tree National Park and other mostly outdoor things.</span></p>
<p style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Noteworthy-Light;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Of course we went to Lakeside again for the summer. We had to miss going there in 2020 because of the “virus”. The programming was a little light, but it was still a good time. Before we left we asked Alice and Gary to buy us out of the house we owned with them so we could buy our own place. They kindly agreed. Now each of us have our own house. We can each be as busy or quiet as we want. Our new house is a cozy 1400 sf house which is very nice. We have already contracted quite a bit of landscaping and also insulating the attic. We can’t wait till May 2022.</span></p>
<p style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Noteworthy-Light;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Wade, Erica, Otis and Isaac all came the same time to visit for a week. It was wonderful having them all there at the same time. Also at the same time Alice had a wedding shower for her son Patrick and her future daughter in law Jane. We had a really full house that weekend. In fact Wade and Alice’s other son Jonathon stayed at the Lakeside Hotel.</span></p>
<p style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Noteworthy-Light;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>My good friend from high school Roal and his wife Denise spent some time at Lakeside and ended up buying a condo there. Roal and I golfed together a lot this summer and will no doubt do more of that next summer. They are fun to spend time with.</span></p>
<p style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Noteworthy-Light;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>When we got back home to Visalia, we began to get reactivated at church. We missed a lot during the worst part of covid. We got a new preacher at the very beginning of covid and I didn’t really like him on Zoom, but now that we see and hear him in person, I really like him…. thank God!</span></p>
<p style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Noteworthy-Light;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>We are sad this fall as our best Visalia friends, Chuck and Debbi are moving up the the Sacramento area. We will really miss them. We love traveling with them. On a good note, they are only three and a half hours from us and we are anxious to explore their new area with them. They also plan to visit us here in Visalia and at Lakeside this summer. All is good.</span></p>
<p style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Noteworthy-Light;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>As the year comes to an end we are looking forward to our family Christmas celebration. Wade is flying a couple of days before Christmas and staying a few days afterwards. Wade, Erica, Otis, Isaac and Diana and I will all be together. I love the ever changing family Christmas traditions we have enjoyed over the years. I am so thankful for the family we’ve enjoyed. I hope and pray for peace and love in your lives.</span></p>
<p style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Noteworthy-Light;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Enough. Wishing you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. </span></p>
<p style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 19.4px;"><span style="font-family: Noteworthy-Light;"></span><br /></p>
<p style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Noteworthy-Light;">Bill and Diana Lutterbein</span></p><div><span style="font-family: Noteworthy-Light;"><br /></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19546038.post-7579743984704909202021-01-20T10:10:00.001-08:002021-01-20T10:11:59.712-08:00Our New President<p> <b>President Biden</b></p><p>President Biden gave a great speech full of hope and promise. I wish him success and good health. </p><p>It did however remind me of my forty years in Rotary. Every year around the first of July a new president was elected. Every year that person would stand before the club with great plans and goals. Excitement abounded. Then the year started. The doubters started saying “we can’t do that”. The old members would say “we haven’t done it that way before”. Some of new members say “We should do more”. All that and more splatters through the fan and just a small portion of the new goals get done.</p><p>But, every year some of the goals get done. Good things happen. Progress is made and a small part of the world is bettered.</p><p>I pray for President Biden. I sincerely hope he pulls us together. I sincerely hope the hate and distrust lessens. I don’t approve of many of his goals, but yet I am much more optimistic than I was a year ago.</p><p>Good luck President Biden. You are my president. I am rooting for you.</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19546038.post-85478057578723991722020-12-18T21:48:00.008-08:002020-12-18T22:11:19.326-08:002020<b>Get Behind Me 2020</b><div><br /></div><div> I’ve played the game </div><div>Rules to the T.<div>Not at all happy ... angry! </div><div>Let it go Billy, let it go </div><div><br /></div><div>Can’t go to church </div><div>No choir to sing in </div><div>Miss my Sunday friends ... sad. </div><div>Let it go Billy, let it go </div><div><br /></div><div> It’s been a year now </div><div>Missing Wade </div><div>My sisters so far away ... when? </div><div>Let it go Billy, let it go </div><div><br /></div><div> Haven’t been out to eat </div><div>Out with friends </div><div>Quick trips to places ... nothing. </div><div>Let it go Billy, let it go </div><div><br /></div><div> Didn’t visit Lakeside </div><div>No concerts, no shows </div><div>The waves, the lake ... missed. </div><div>Let it go Billy, let it go </div><div><br /></div><div> Politics were very bad </div><div>Hate in the air, everywhere </div><div> Will next year be better ... doubt. </div><div>Let it go Billy, let it go </div><div><br /></div><div>The sun still shined </div><div>Diana was with me </div><div>She took care of me ... love. </div><div>Remember Billy, remember </div><div><br /></div><div> Saw Erica and her boys </div><div>Porch meals at a distance </div><div>Feeling the love ... wonderful. </div><div>Remember Billy, remember </div><div><br /></div><div>Zoomed with Wade and Liam </div><div>Talked and laughed with family </div><div>Great to see faces on the screen ... thankful </div><div>Remember Billy, remember </div><div><br /></div><div> Golfed with the “boys” </div><div>One to a cart </div><div>Keeping me sane ... sort of </div><div>Remember Billy, remember </div><div><br /></div><div> A wonderful home to live in </div><div>Nice neighborhood for walks </div><div>A pond with swans and ducks ... peaceful </div><div>Remember Billy, remember </div><div><br /></div><div>Thanks to my Maker and his Son </div><div>God made us and gave me faith </div><div>This year, all I have ... Grace </div><div>Remember Billy, remember </div><div><br /></div><div>Love and peace to you </div><div>Good will and charity in my heart </div><div>The world’s not so bad ... Look! </div><div>Look around Billy, look around.
</div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19546038.post-24030267707099529052019-02-21T12:00:00.001-08:002019-02-24T21:00:10.082-08:00Her First Day in HeavenThis morning I woke up early, I’d guess a little before six. Went to the bathroom and decided to sit in my recliner beside the bed for a while since I wasn’t ready for the day yet. Since it was light out I put my light blocking mask on and tried to get a little more sleep.<br />
I did get to sleep I think, but seemed to be in some sort of semi conscious dream. The reason I say that is because I vividly remember it.<br />
I was in my friends office. His mother hasn’t been well and they thought a couple of times that she might not make it much longer. Well last night he said he had just seen her down in LA and she was doing very well and they thought she might get to go back to her assisted living facility soon. (That last sentence really happened and he told us that last night at church.)<br />
This is where the dream starts..... I was in Mark’s office and I asked him if when he sees his mom does he tell her he loves her and give her a hug like it might be the last time he sees her alive. (Not sure I would really ask that question outside of a dream.)<br />
And this is where it gets weird. I was like a fly on the wall or a hovering drone. I was inside a white room, totally white. Mark’s mom was just getting out of bed. She was wearing a white gown. As she got out of bed and walked across the room towards the door, the gown changed into her most comfortable/favorite clothes. The white room somehow changed into a cute efficiency apartment. The bed was towards the rear, the kitchen on the left and the living room was on the right.<br />
She walked out the door to a small porch. Beyond the porch was a beautiful yard and a perfectly still lake. There was a mist on the lake and the sun was just rising above the mist. A fish jumped and made a splash to the right and just a little left of the porch was an Adirondack chair with a perfectly baited fishing rod leaning beside it.<br />
She sat down and casted the hook and worm out into the lake and slowly reeled in. Then she did it again. A tall brown haired bearded man walked up to her and said welcome Mary, you’re going to love it here. If you move your chair down a little to the left near that rock in the lake you will catch some fish. There are blue gill, perch, and crappies in this lake. She stood up and looked down where the rock was and her chair was already there with a small cooler with a little ice in it beside it.<br />
She started fishing and caught several very nice blue gills and she put them in the cooler. After a while she got up to fix the fish. She carried the cooler to the house and opened it up. Inside the cooler were the fillets of the fish she had caught all ready to fry. In her kitchen was a bowl of egg batter and a bowl of seasoned bread crumbs. On the stove there was a skillet with hot oil to cook the fish.<br />
She cooked them up to perfection and that’s where my dream ended. It was so real to me as I dreamed it. Especially whe she looked over the lake. The dark blue water with the steam coming off it and the sun just peaking over the cloud it was forming. My mind goes to interesting places, but I have to say, this was one of the most interesting. I’m assuming it was Heaven. And the fact that there was no bathroom/toilet. Wouldn’t that be nice if we never needed to go. <br />
I hope your dreams are pleasant.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19546038.post-72809983246272852692017-03-24T21:50:00.001-07:002018-03-23T13:34:07.021-07:00TheCatch<h3 style="box-sizing: border-box; direction: ltr; line-height: 1.1em; margin: 0.2em 0px 0.15em; padding: 0px;">
<span style="background-color: rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 0); font-size: 17px;">The Catch</span></h3>
<div style="box-sizing: border-box; direction: ltr; line-height: 1.35; margin: 0px 0px 1.2em; padding: 0px;">
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">My first memory of Lakeside Ohio</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">This is an old story. I'm 64 years old and this story is from when I was 10 or 12 years old. My Uncle Frank Rowe was a Methodist preacher and I think it may have been conference time. I stayed with Uncle Frank, Aunt Bev and their two boys, Steve and John at Lakeside.</span></div>
<div style="box-sizing: border-box; direction: ltr; line-height: 1.35; margin: 0px 0px 1.2em; padding: 0px;">
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">One day Steve, John and I went down to the dock to fish. We used Frank’s fishing gear and we had pretty good success. When it was time to go, John took the stringer full of fish and started down the pier. He was feeling pretty happy. He was swinging the stringer around when it slipped out of his hand and went way out in the water. I was worried about losing Frank’s stringer. I wondered how much trouble we'd be in.</span></div>
<div style="box-sizing: border-box; direction: ltr; line-height: 1.35; margin: 0px 0px 1.2em; padding: 0px;">
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">When Frank came home, he asked us how it went. John and I just looked at each other and didn't know what to say. We just thought we were in big trouble. But then Steve chimed in and said we caught six fish… but we threw them all back. We were off the hook, so to speak. Nothing else was ever said about it. Steve is a lawyer now. I'd say he is a natural.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19546038.post-287758347758690252016-11-06T16:38:00.000-08:002016-11-06T20:13:40.679-08:00So Now is the TimeWe are currently studying Isaiah in our Thursday night small group meetings. We use a workbook written by Howard Peskett to help with our meeting. Each week we read the preface to the chapters we will be reading that week. After reading the chapter or chapters we answer questions and sometimes asked to do other things to help our understanding. This week we read Isaiah 5 and the last thing we were asked to do was "Write a short poem on the state of your society." Here is my poem.<br />
<br />
Babies dying<br />
Countries are burning<br />
Politicians lying<br />
No one discerning<br />
When will we learn, there's no time for beer<br />
For it is written, the time is quite near<br />
The Good Lord is coming, he soon will be here<br />
So now is the time to believe without fear<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19546038.post-72267278770798043642016-09-22T12:33:00.000-07:002016-09-22T13:29:25.001-07:00Are There Any Joys? Last night at the end of choir practice Heather (as always) asked "Are there are any prayer requests?" and then <i>"Are there any joys?". </i>That is just one reason why I enjoy choir practice. That just settles me at a bit the end of each Wednesday.<br />
Well this time when she asked about joys, I blurted out "I parred number five at Exeter!" Oh the groans from other choir members. One said we don't pray for golf. I felt embarrassed. So, I said just kidding, don't pray for <u>that</u> joy. It's just golf. (The problem with being a jokester/kidder, is that people rarely know when you are serious.)<br />
I was serious. In reality it was much more than golf. It was and is a true joy to me. Here's why:<br />
Sixteen months ago I was laying in the hospital with eight newly installed screws and four rods in my lower back. I didn't know how it all would work out. I didn't know if I would ever golf again. The doctor had just told me there was nerve damage in my left foot and I would probably have numbness in it. Inside I was terrified. Outside I was optimistic and positive. I didn't wand Diana or the kids to worry.<br />
Fifteen months ago I could walk a couple hundred yards with the help of a cane. I still didn't know if I would ever be able ever golf again. I asked the doctors assistant about it and he said I probably would be able to golf, but I wasn't allowed to even try until a year after the surgery.<br />
So..... Five months ago I went the Exeter Golf Course, joined in with the old men of the church and started by just putting and walking with them. By then I was walking over two miles every morning at home and feeling pretty good, but still not sure about my back. From then till now I had to relearn how to golf without the flexibility my back once had and at the same time trying not to hurt my newly repaired back. It was't easy and isn't easy.<br />
This Monday I actually felt like a golfer for the first time in a couple of years. I was swinging freely and felt loose. So, on hole five, a four hundred yard par four which I have never parred before everything worked. My drive was straight and went 200 yards. My second shot was straight and went 180 yards. My chip shot landed on the green and then I made a 30 foot putt for my par. <i>I finally felt like a whole human being again!</i> For the first time in a long time. <b>That was a joy! A praise God for healing joy! </b><br />
<b> </b>Fellow choir members, I understand why you thought I was being flippant about expressing joy about one little golf hole, but it had little to do with golf. It had everything to do with the Grace of God's healing hands on my broken body. I hope you understand. I love every one of you. Not joking either.<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19546038.post-1686756153163851992016-04-08T21:28:00.001-07:002016-04-08T21:33:00.171-07:00Blogging<div>April 6, 2016 1:00 pm Pacific Time</div><div><br></div><div>I write in my blog from time to time. Right now I'm sitting in an airplane somewhere between San Francisco and Minneapolis bored out of my mind and thinking. Why do I write a blog? Mmmmm, why DO I write a blog?</div><div><br></div><div>Do I have a profound gift for writing? No. Do I have special knowledge that no one else has? No. Am I insecure in my place in this world? Maybe, probably yes. Do I have unique experiences no one else has had? Yes. Am I a unique, slightly crazy, bullshit laden creature who was raised in a lumberyard by a combination of crude construction workers, truck drivers, traveling salesmen and a workoholic father while at the same time learning to be civilized by my mother, grandmother and three sisters? Yes! For sure.</div><div><br></div><div>O.K. I am qualified to write a blog. I just have to be careful not to let facts and settled knowledge get in the way of my opinions and stories. Nothing in my blog articles are lies or made up stories. I may not remember things the same way others do and I may embellish a story a bit, but for the most part things are 100% true experiences of mine or just simply my opinion.</div><div><br></div><div>Another thing that helps in writing a blog like mine are the influences on my life. Both the Lutterbein's and the Rowe's had some pretty good story tellers in them. The most famous one was my Uncle Dick Lutterbein. He was without a doubt the best story teller I have ever met. He was funny and imaginable. I never really knew if he was telling the truth or not, but I loved to listen. His brothers and sister were not bad either. My Uncle Frank Rowe is a pretty good story teller as well. Of course he was a Methodist pastor, so was licensed and trained to tell stories. I have to believe most of his were true. My Grandpa Lutterbein actually used to be a public speaker about a hundred years ago. Here is a picture of his brochure cover.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWEgapw8gzWEo0EWUcXzfegzQOyjYZ6MZszT_n3iO8lW904s70UBemGneb9KRQLnlNbcVjM3jBuSdTntQZ04PIuNJqqhClXald-bARfYIApXOfwx-h4MF5L-IRj88KEpaeZGX7/s640/blogger-image-1005257621.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWEgapw8gzWEo0EWUcXzfegzQOyjYZ6MZszT_n3iO8lW904s70UBemGneb9KRQLnlNbcVjM3jBuSdTntQZ04PIuNJqqhClXald-bARfYIApXOfwx-h4MF5L-IRj88KEpaeZGX7/s640/blogger-image-1005257621.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>So, yes I enjoy my self indulging hobby and will continue to write my little blog. I just hope someone likes it and will leave a comment or share a similar experience they may have had.</div><div> </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>To the moon Alice! </div><div><br></div><div> </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19546038.post-21589085791092899072015-12-29T22:01:00.001-08:002016-01-01T10:27:50.033-08:00Life and Death<h2><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px;">On Life and Death.</span></h2><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">As I was watching a show highlighting the 2015 year in review, I couldn't overlook all the death and killing that occurred. It happens every year. Friends, relatives, acquaintances and millions of people you don't know die. It's the most important part of life. It's really the only thing we have to do.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Sometimes I think I'm too flippant about death. When someone I love dies, I weep for a while. I don't want to, but I do, but then I'm happy for them. I guess I assume they are Christian and they are now in Heaven. When other people die, I'm not moved much. I've seen death my whole life.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">When I was really young, Tommy Faber got sick and we never saw him again. I think he had cancer. I guess that was in the late 1950's. It was never explained to us. He just disappeared. He died and went to Heaven.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Both my grandpas died when I was in elementary school. They were old and that happens to old people I was told. Grandpa Rowe was 62 and Grandpa Lutterbein was 65. I'm 63. Mmmmm.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Later when we were in elementary school a bunch of us neighborhood kids would play after school. Just about every day Jeff Yarger, a high school kid, would walk by us on his way home from school. He lived around the corner from us. When he'd walk by and say "hello men", that made a bunch of little boys feel pretty good. Well he graduated and went into the Air Force. We were in junior high by then. One day we found out he was shot down and killed in a place called Vietnam. That was my first taste/understanding of real death. That changed my life. I got a small understanding about both death and war.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">When I went to college I knew I didn't want to go to Vietnam. There were news reports of all the killing and death every night on the nightly news. I was terrified. My class was in the army lottery. My number was 71. That was not good. Fortunately there was a deferment for college students. All I had to do was keep a C average and I was safe for four years. Those were the four years I fell. Heavy drinking, daily use of marijuana, a rebellious spirit led me to attend a few anti war rallies and develop a general disrespect for all authority. Somehow I did keep that C average and got my degree in economics. By then the war had ended and life went on.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Later in life our first son was born. We were excited as we anticipated this his birth, but there were problems. Brian William Lutterbein was born with multiple anomalies. Heart, lungs, kidneys, a little of everything. He was born on October 13, 1978. His funeral was December 13, 1978. I blamed myself because of my earlier lifestyle even though there was no medical evidence. You never get over something like this, at least I haven't. I needed help. Family helped a lot, but this 6'5" angel tucked me under his wing and helped me get though it. We would go drinking and shooting/hunting. In a strange way killing birds and rabbits was good therapy and my old friend beer helped as well. It took less and less of both as time went by.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">My two best friends in high school lost a son as well. Roal's son died in a car accident in high school and Bev's son died of a freak aneurism when he was in college. I don't know how I would have survived either of those. I had Brian less than two months and melted into a pile of mush. They had there sons for 16 and I think 20 years. I never had the intestinal fortitude to talk to either one of them about it. Didn't think I could handle it. Those boys are in Heaven. I still pray for their parents.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">My cousin John Rowe would light up any room he walked into. We sometimes referred to John as crazy John because he was his own person. He was a conscientious objector to the Vietnam war. He had a great singing voice. He later became a minister and lead crusades in Europe when he was in his 40's. I loved John. He was my favorite cousin. I got a lot of his old clothes since he was a year older than me and always just a size larger than me. John got colon cancer and died at age 49. That was a tough on the whole family. John was life itself and then he went to Heaven.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">A few years later big Bob Farnham, my 6'5" angel I mentioned earlier, died suddenly. This was another big hurt. As far as I'm concerned, he saved my life 25 years earlier and then he went to Heaven. I'm still good friends with his wife. I have to mention Denise. She was pretty important and contributed to my healing as well.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Both my grandmas died, grandma L was 91 and Grandma R was 102. Grandma L was always my biggest critic and Grandma R was always my biggest fan. They were old and it was time. They both lived good long lives. They went to Heaven.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">My dad was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease when he was around 80. He went down hill until he was finally blessed with death. It was hard watching the slide. Year after year getting worse and worse. When he died I realized the good of death. Love you dad. You taught me things even when you died. Hope to see you in Heaven someday.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">My Uncle Dick Lutterbein was also my business partner. He was a pain in my side for much of my business life, but I still loved him. When dad died he was especially caring and helpful. Dick had a bad habit of not stopping at stop signs. He had a lot of health problems and outlived his doctor's prediction and may still be alive if it weren't for that stop sign. I was the first one of the family to the hospital. He died a few hours later. He had a couple of his daughters, his friend Fran, Don Landel and I with him when he died. He is the only person that I actually watched die. I don't recommend it. There were times I wondered if he would make it to heaven, but the last couple of years I knew him makes me believe that's where is.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">My in laws died a couple of years apart. Clair's death wasn't a big shock. He had pretty bad dementia and was in a nursing home for a while. He was 88. Irene on the other hand was a shock. In fact she was going to move to California with us. Then all of a sudden her health went down hill and died in just a couple of months. It was suggested she didn't want to move so she went to be with Clair. I loved both my in laws and I know they are in Heaven.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Finally my mom. She died last winter. She was 92. It was time for her as well. She suffered from dementia for several years. In my mind she died a couple of years ago. There was a person in that nursing home who looked like mom, but I couldn't find my mom. We were glad for her when she died. We celebrated life when both my parents died.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">We are all going to die. Embrace it. There are a lot of ways to die. Some people like to decide when and how to die. After dad died I thought that might be a good idea, but after further consideration, I think I'll take what the good Lord gives me. My goal in life is Heaven. It's a hard job for us humans. It doesn't just happen. As my econ professor Paul Jersa used to say the day before a quiz "A word to the wise should be sufficient".</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Good living to you. </span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19546038.post-41934083480207307742015-07-03T07:35:00.001-07:002015-07-03T07:42:22.521-07:00Surgery Again<div><br></div> Eight weeks ago I had back surgery. After years of pain, I finally went to the doctor. After X-rays, therapy and an MRI, I was sent to a surgeon. My back was actually worse than I thought. I knew it was bad because a couple of months earlier I had to quit a round of golf after only playing twelve holes.<div><br><div>The surgeon used a bunch of medical jargon, but in the end I needed back fusion surgery. I had four spots fused together in my lower back. Now I have another nice looking scar. This one is eight inches long. Here are the post surgery X-rays.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQcxiq-cvSxKuaooIZFeNEFeyneRNDznFQMC2FddI9choi499f94w8PU6ybh2D9YkBIvUi0GKPObVt6SniNCnTAwptYCj_P1PG2KFM1x69n43BPPe9jgB58DxT0UNsCJnByGCY/s640/blogger-image-357284048.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQcxiq-cvSxKuaooIZFeNEFeyneRNDznFQMC2FddI9choi499f94w8PU6ybh2D9YkBIvUi0GKPObVt6SniNCnTAwptYCj_P1PG2KFM1x69n43BPPe9jgB58DxT0UNsCJnByGCY/s640/blogger-image-357284048.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvLsVzr-h6NCYaHGjyPkiioI4Sgh_bVQ2K4dkF_rQrdhSz0dPTGnhP7uB7K_Zt_SFpKsVwTR-mggcpdyLrswFcJRUt7ksLTSMpB6p3ZdxVFnRWwwaOIKmvsJKxGfdPYNYphARV/s640/blogger-image-255270306.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvLsVzr-h6NCYaHGjyPkiioI4Sgh_bVQ2K4dkF_rQrdhSz0dPTGnhP7uB7K_Zt_SFpKsVwTR-mggcpdyLrswFcJRUt7ksLTSMpB6p3ZdxVFnRWwwaOIKmvsJKxGfdPYNYphARV/s640/blogger-image-255270306.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Since my 55th birthday, I've had four surgeries. I hope I'm done now. Two knees, a shoulder, and now my back. I can't help but wonder what is wrong with me. Am I not eating right or something like that or is it just genetic? I'm pretty sure the knees are genetic, but as far as I know I'm the first family member with the back surgery.</span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Never the less, I'm thankful for Dr. Aryan and his team. I'm looking forward to a good recovery and moving on with my life without back pain.</span></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19546038.post-25207607649902927802014-09-27T14:33:00.001-07:002014-09-27T14:33:56.776-07:00Grandparents Have Emotions Too.Our church here in Visalia has had a couple of kids with serious health problems recently. Two different families. As I heard about these kids and prayed for them. I also prayed for the kids parents and grand parents. You see I have some experience in this area.<div><br></div><div>Our first child, Brian William Lutterbein was born on October 13th, thirty six years ago. I still remember the pain and horror of his problems and death two months later. Everything was wrong with him. He had no chance of living a long life.</div><div><br></div><div>As I remember that time I remember all the support and help we got from my parents and Diana's parents. At the time I had no thoughts of the pain and hurt they were suffering with and enduring. At the time I didn't understand that Brian's grandparents had feelings too. I was thinking of Brian, Diana and myself.</div><div><br></div><div>It wasn't until I became a grandparent myself that I realized how emotional it is when a grandson is sick, or is having problems in school and how emotional it can be on a grandparent. As a parent and grandparent; why can't I fix this thing or at least have the wisdom to say something to make everyone feel better? </div><div><br></div><div>Grandparents are not magic. They have no control over what happens. It amazes me now how outwardly calm my parents and in laws were when Brian was slowly dieing. They were so strong and supportive, but how were they on the inside. From my experience as a granddad I know they were in a mess inside. </div><div><br></div><div>God gives grandparents the ability to act strong and under control during times of high family stress. That is a wonderful thing. God seemed strong and almost cold when his son was crucified for us, but I'll bet he was suffering just like any other father would. We are made in Gods image. Through prayer and lifelong praying for others, we parents and grandparents somehow muster the strength to get through bad times.</div><div><br></div><div>I guess what I'm trying to say is that when you pray for a sick child, it would be helpful if you also pray for the child's parents and grandparents as well. Not all prayers are answered the way we might think they should be, but I know prayers are answered. I have felt and seen the power of prayers from people who have prayed for me. Please pray for help when you or someone else needs it, but also offer prayers of thanks when good things happen to you through the grace of God. Prayer helps all the way around.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19546038.post-26154229871168537672014-06-30T12:14:00.001-07:002014-07-02T09:41:09.802-07:00Baseball, My Favorite Spectator SportI grew up in a pretty small town. We had two stop lights, a k-12 school all on the same site, one full time policeman and the town team/high school/little league/pony league baseball field. With everyone using the same field, it was busy all the time. It was a pretty nice field too, and it was well lit for night games. The town team played a lot at night. There were bleachers on the first base side of the field and car parking on the third base side of the field. People would sit in their cars all along the third base side of the field and when a good play was made or a home run hit everyone would honk their horns. It wasn't uncommon for a car to get hit by a foul ball, but that didn't deter people from getting the best viewing parking spots. Huck Zimmerman's mom ran the concession stand with her kids. It wasn't much more than a mini storage shed with a flip up wood window and a couple of electrical outlets. They served hotdogs, popcorn, candy bars, pop and coffee.<div><br></div><div>That baseball field was about fifty yards from the back of our house and my small bedroom had two nice sized windows and was on the second floor of the house. At night it was like being at a baseball game. The lights would light up my room. With the windows up in the summer I could hear all the chatter of the players and the chears and moans of the fans. When cars started honking I knew something good happened for the home team. To this day I love to hear the "crack of the bat" when a ball gets hit. </div><div><br></div><div>When I was a little older and finally got my own transistor radio, I'd have the Detroit Tigers on the radio at the same time as the local game was going on. Listening to Ernie Harwell describe the game with the sounds from the local ball field was great. Harwell was famous for the way he would call a game. When a fan cought a ball he'd say " A fan from Gross Point cought the ball." Every time it happen he'd say another town surrounding Detroit. When a home run was hit he'd say "It's loooonnnggg gone!" My favorite call was when someone was called for the third strike with out swinging. He'd say " and he stood there like the house on the side of the road and watched it go bye." Ernie Harwell is in The Baseball Hall of Fame now. He was the greatest.</div><div><br></div><div>Growing up so close to the ball field, I was there all the time. Watching games and even high school practices. The high school coach gave me a broken bat from time to time. I would take it home and my dad showed me how to fix them as long as they were not broken completely in two. We would get some really small nails, Elmer's glue and electrical tape. We would drill a little hole just a little shorter than the nail, squeeze some glue in the crack, put the nail in and the tape it up real good with the electrical tape. When we were done, it was almost like new. I know I never had to buy a bat to use, even though most of the ones we fixed were too big for me. Sometimes I would take them back and show them to the coach. He was probably just being nice, but he always acted like I had really done something good.</div><div><br></div><div>My baseball playing career started and pretty much ended in Little League. I played three years in little league. My first year I was terrible and was stuck playing right field. I was a skinny little runt and hadn't developed many muscles. It was a long season and the coach was a kid just a few years older than us. He didn't have much patience with us. My second year I had Huck Zimmerman as my coach. Looking back, he was probably the best coach I ever had in any sport I played. Huck wasn't a good student in school, but he was enthusiastic, kind, and just made me want to work hard and play better. He moved me to first base and I started every game. I actually made the all star team that year and was a pretty decent hitter. I remember there was one kid I just couldn't hit. His name was Chuck. That kid had a really good fast ball and he struck me out every time except one. That one time was the last game before the all star team was chosen. He was pretty cocky and was trying to make me look bad. He threw me a change up and I hit a home run off him to win the game. I knew he was throwing the change up because he cocked his wrist differently and I was waiting on it. Chuck and I were friends and that was the first time I could ever rub it in to him like he did to me so many times before.</div><div><br></div><div>Over the next winter, I started to grow taller and became a little more uncoordinated. I tried out for Pony league, but got cut. I was still young enough to play little league again, but was not nearly as good that year as the previous year. The next summer I tried out for Pony League again and got cut again and thus ended my baseball career. I didn't play baseball until I pitched slow pitch softball at college. By then I was much bigger, stronger and a pretty good athlete. I played soft ball until the age of thirty and loved it and was pretty good. I was a pitcher the whole time and hit over 600, but couldn't hit a home run. I just opened my stance and slapped the ball where there was a hole. Strictly a singles hitter. </div><div><br></div><div>Well now you know all about my illustrious baseball career. The game I loved the most was the game I just coulded master as a teenager, but it's still the best game in the world. Play Ball!!</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1jHT5PYsku0M5MWL7FLlHvsBlMERnFBJjoJiFBg5W4jJByxljoIY5TmQgeg_YueXnIs6fuxkqGp1qOvj29eH1nssOzcuSrcl5RXKL4_Ht4HOFF94URCHdl4kXG6WxvFIKsxU4/s640/blogger-image--727437036.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1jHT5PYsku0M5MWL7FLlHvsBlMERnFBJjoJiFBg5W4jJByxljoIY5TmQgeg_YueXnIs6fuxkqGp1qOvj29eH1nssOzcuSrcl5RXKL4_Ht4HOFF94URCHdl4kXG6WxvFIKsxU4/s640/blogger-image--727437036.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>This picture was my last year in little league. I was the tall kid in the last row. As you can see I had gone through quit a growth spirt and was way taller than the other kids. Huck Zimmerman is on the far right. I have really good memories of playing baseball as a young kid.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19546038.post-35536915703320681572014-06-22T11:20:00.001-07:002014-06-22T11:27:01.659-07:00There's A Song In My Heart.After church this morning a friend of ours motioned us over. Sally said I've met your daughter, I'd like you to meet my daughter. She is from Fresno and her name is Katie. As I shook Katie's hand I began to sing. Kkkkatie Kkkatie, your the one the only one that I adore........when the Mmmmoon shines over the Cccow shed...........<div>She and her mom both seemed to enjoy my silliness. I explained to them that my Dad sang to my Mom all the time when we traveled places. Many of the songs were love songs. Mom would sing with dad a lot as well. My dad truly loved my mom and vice versa. </div><div>It's funny as I get further removed from the lumber business my memories of my dad are more as my dad and less as my boss and later business partner. For the last forty years of dad's life our relationship was a business one and most of those good memories of him as a father were pushed to the back of my brain.</div><div>My sisters probably wondered why I didn't give him more of a break on his little faults. I think I was pretty hard on him and didn't appreciate him as a dad. All he would ever talk to me about was business and I just accepted it as the way it was. Enough of that.</div><div>I'm so thankful for my dad and I'm so happy that the memories of dad are surfacing to the top of my mind now. Tell my why the stars do shine, Tell my why the ivy twines. Kkkatie Kkkatie. Bill Grogans Goat. The horses run around with their feet upon the ground. There were many more, I just can't think of them right now. Some one will say something to me and it seems there is always a song that relates to the comment. </div><div>There is a song in my heart. Thank you dad.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTjHeegTBS3b6fT0jo7u7IA7UPV9fSAE62eS06c3l-_qtVDfdeohF8B3tiji7TBBqp28FVMiz3oubsdWE2MSMGwKfH0QMaWsmrqF7g_tQ0UsMJabHYWVdwDAk_USc38l9zSUrp/s640/blogger-image-950386778.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTjHeegTBS3b6fT0jo7u7IA7UPV9fSAE62eS06c3l-_qtVDfdeohF8B3tiji7TBBqp28FVMiz3oubsdWE2MSMGwKfH0QMaWsmrqF7g_tQ0UsMJabHYWVdwDAk_USc38l9zSUrp/s640/blogger-image-950386778.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19546038.post-41252438163898291802014-04-27T15:37:00.001-07:002014-07-06T22:24:27.482-07:00Eleven Perfect YearsI think all Lutterbein's are born to be very competitive. My dad and his two brothers and his sister were all that way. I think they had no choice in the matter as <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">It was instilled in them by their mother and father.</span><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">That being said they all tried to pass it on to their kids. I know my dad certainly did. Even something as simple as having kids with the best attendance records in Sunday School attendance. I don't know about my sisters, but at one point I had eleven years of perfect attendance. Do you remember the Sunday Schools pins for attendance? There was a pin and then little hanging bars or schrools hanging off the pin. Dad even made us wear them from time to time. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">You might ask, how can you do something like that. As I remember it was something like this... 1. We weren't allowed to be sick. 2. We never went on vacations. And 3. Even when we went to or from Grandma Rowe's house on a Sunday morning, he would find a Methodist Church in some town pull over and into Sunday School we would go. At the time it was terrible. My sisters and I hated it and I think the only reason we stopped was so when they give the little awards out we would always get/win the attendance awards. Another victory for the Lutterbein family!</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Now let's look at the bright side. I'm sure going to Sunday School other places didn't hurt us at all. It was also good for us to meet different people with different ideas and ways of doing things. Our minds were in some ways opened up and expanded. Finally it equipped us with the ability to meet and communicate with people we didn't know. That in itself was worth the torture we felt. Everywhere I go I easily meet people and love to talk to them with ease. It's quite a gift form my mom and dad.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">No matter how much I may complain I love my whole life. God has blessed me. I am very thankful for the Grace of God.</span></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUyb34uAQ_gl3RIwzMFZxAwXav7OXwHEKpcifjW-ltL68anJn-KNYOkbWsGPgm-GWplgprvbHOXLoVq-O52CL7IIbwMdDaEXs0YyT-h3jtDg1Ontwy0BvYYXWoVqhm2EuhlOMJ/s640/blogger-image--314858817.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUyb34uAQ_gl3RIwzMFZxAwXav7OXwHEKpcifjW-ltL68anJn-KNYOkbWsGPgm-GWplgprvbHOXLoVq-O52CL7IIbwMdDaEXs0YyT-h3jtDg1Ontwy0BvYYXWoVqhm2EuhlOMJ/s640/blogger-image--314858817.jpg"></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19546038.post-27088483982772282722014-03-12T16:10:00.001-07:002014-03-12T16:10:24.306-07:00Playground Lumberyard In a previous post I mentioned how we would play in the old lumber shed and the old high school gym converted into a warehouse. Those weren't the only places. Lutterbein Lumber was a treasure trove of places to play and imagine adventure.<div><br><div> Where do I start? My dad ran construction crews and they layed bricks and blocks on those buildings. To make the mortar they needed masons sand, lots of it sometimes. There was always a pile of sand contained by three wood walls. Whenever it would run a little low, dad would order another dump truck of sand. Sometimes there was a little sand and sometimes it seemed like there was a mountain of sand. It was a great place to play except it was also a cat litter box, but we over looked that small problem.</div><div><br></div><div> In the back of the lumberyard there were wild strawberries growing all over the place. In season it was fun picking and eating thosestrawberries. There were really small and as I remember pretty sweet.</div><div><br></div><div> Climbing on piles of lumber was our version of going mountain climbing. We would use our imagination and reall have fun. There was one day that the boy across the street had a pile of lumber tip towards him and trap him so he couldn't get out. I still remember him screaming "I'm dying, I'm dying." In reality he was just scared half to death. He wasn't hurt at all. We just unstacked a few dozen 2X4's and let him out. No harm. No foul.</div><div><br></div><div> Speaking of fouls, we also had a grass basketball court nailed to the side of the lumber shed that had the walk across plank. All the neighborhood boys would come over to play basketball. We didn't have referees so there may have been a few fouls here and there. Again, no one ever got hurt, we just had fun. </div><div><br></div><div> Dad and Uncle Dick were quite the promoters. A few times they hired a company with an elephant and a monkey for a promotion. A way to attract customers. An elephant inside the retail store! That was the neatest thing in the world. How many people have been able to experience that? What fun!</div><div><br></div><div> One time one of my sisters (I won't say which one) was in the office playing. She found a few sheets of "stickers" and thought it would be fun to past them to the office chair. I imagine it was very pretty. We were pretty much banned from the office from that point on. Those stickers were postage stamps.</div><div><br></div><div> In the back of the lumberyard where the strawberries were there were dirt driveways with deep ruts in them. When it would rain those would fill up with water. A few times when it was hot we would play in them. Running and doing belly flops in them sliding from one end to another. We were just like barnyard hogs wallering in the mud to stay cool. To this day, I don't know why I didn't get in a lot of trouble over that. Again, we were never hurt. I can't imagine even thinking about letting my kids do half of what I did as a kid.</div><div><br></div><div> I mentioned earlier that Dad and my uncle were promoters. On another occasion they put a pen up in the north lumber shed and had a large pig put in it. They had a hog wild sale! People could enter to win the pig. The good thing about it they had Pepsi put a Pepsi/Mountain Dew machine out there with paper cups. We drank all we could get away with. I think my friends and I drank up any profit that might have been made.</div><div><br></div><div> It was another day back in the 1950's and 1960's. We did things that parents would probably be charged with child endangerment today if they let their kids do. Of course we didn't ask our parents if we could do any of this. We were allowed to roam as we pleased. There was little or no danger to any of us being allowed to do as we please. I am thankful for the freedom I had. We learned as much playing as we did in grade school. Both parts were important to growing up. I wouldn't trade it for the world.</div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19546038.post-474639799379036652014-03-08T13:36:00.001-08:002014-03-08T13:40:13.020-08:00Soft Shoulder.......Diana and I drove to the coast yesterday. On the way back I saw a sign that said "Soft Shoulder". I said my mom had a soft shoulder. What? Diana asked. I said my mom had a soft shoulder.<div>I remember when we were kids mom and dad would take us to grandma Rowe's house once or twice a year. It was always a long drive and it was usually after work in the evening or very early in the morning. </div><div>This was before seat belts and car seats. Once or twice dad would put concrete blocks in the back seat where your feet would go and then put a piece of plywood cut to fit all across the back seat. That gave us a level floor to play or sleep on. I think he put some kind of padding on it to make it more comfortable. Cars were a lot bigger then. I can remember sleeping in the back window ledge of the car on one of those trips. I would draw things in the frost that gathered inside the window. It was pretty cool and a fun place to be.</div><div>The very best place late a night was in the front seat with mom and dad. I still remember the warmth and love mom showed as I leaned against her soft shoulder. The radio would be playing softly or mom and dad would sing quietly to each other or they would just talk softly to each other. We were lucky, my sisters and me, to have parents who were so much in love. We were lucky to have parents who loved us unconditionally as well. Yes we got spanked from time to time and yes we tried them as much as we could, but the love was always there.</div><div>Some days I feel really sad when I think of the way mom is now with her memory pretty much gone, but I will always have my memories. I think I will tell her about this distant memory when I see her next month. I love you mom.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyowOCpJRPCfbJ9qZC_YEyN5pZ5trIZ-ng3GDcWIDMt3uSSY_P251c8CbtsHsgpCo5-a-kEW6dbjpd8TvGTuWmJICzDdi2SIepRMlcnVUS7hojjCBORb0M4yF0FPNPZAhNJ46l/s640/blogger-image-293742457.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyowOCpJRPCfbJ9qZC_YEyN5pZ5trIZ-ng3GDcWIDMt3uSSY_P251c8CbtsHsgpCo5-a-kEW6dbjpd8TvGTuWmJICzDdi2SIepRMlcnVUS7hojjCBORb0M4yF0FPNPZAhNJ46l/s640/blogger-image-293742457.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19546038.post-23479388701692468432014-02-19T14:11:00.001-08:002014-02-19T14:13:00.250-08:00Chisel, Hammer and MercurochromeGrowing up in a lumberyard was a pretty cool life. It was like having a playground and an amusement park right out the back door. Big trucks coming and going, the sounds of the big belt driven rip saw and the wood planner, lumber sheds and lumber piles to climb on and of course the retail store to explore.<div><br><div>A couple of things I remember was the lumber shed that had a catwalk on both sides and a 2X12 plank running from one side to the other in the middle of the building and the old gym building with loft areas to explore and hide in.</div><div><br></div><div>That 2X12 was one of the things my sisters an I felt we should master. It was really scary at first. It was less than a foot wide and eight or nine feet to the ground. It looked like a mile to the ground when we first tried crossing it. At first we would crawl across it very slowly hanging on for dear life. Then walk a couple of steps and the crawl the rest of the way. After a while we could walk over it like it was dry land with no problems. We eventually ran across it. It was nothing to us then. </div><div><br></div><div>The old gym was actually once the high school gym. It was an old wood structure that my grandfather bought and had moved from the school yard to the lumberyard. If you used your imagination you could see where the bleachers were on both sides and where the stage was at the east end of the building. When we were kids there was a big sliding door on both ends and on either side was built a loft for misc. building materials. The neighborhood boys loved to play back there. We'd be all over it exploring. We really weren't supposed to be there, but you know boys. Every once in a while old Nick Watson, one of the truck drivers would come back to load something onto the truck. We were scared to death of old Nick. He was a big thick person and wore bib overalls. When he'd come we would hide hoping he didn't kill us or worse tell dad. I'm sure he heard us once in a while, but he never found us. As we grew up we found old nick wasn't so bad.</div></div><div><br></div><div>Back to the title of this little story. My dad worked with the construction crews when I was small plus sold buildings in the evenings. He was very busy. Sometimes when he worked at home and if he didn't get done with a job he was working on he would leave the tools lay so he could continue the next evening. Well I have a scar the width of my left index finger and you can still see it fifty six years later. Dad left his hammer and one inch chisel on the front porch. Somehow I managed to deeply cut myself all across my finger. I think dad was home at the time because I was the only one person panicking. That would be me. We didn't go the the doctor for stitches as we would today. No it was the soap and water, mercurochrome, gauze and tape. That ended up being the way it was from then until I was married. I never had a stitch until after I had a wife to insist that I go to the doctor. I have a lot of scars that I'm sure would not be there if only they were stitched nice and tight.</div><div><br></div><div>Life simple in the 1950's. I thank God that I was able to grow up in a time where a lot of what you learned was from doing dumb things. We didn't have to worry about making the right decisions. We were allowed to make bad decisions and learn from them. There was much less stress and a lot more care free fun.</div><div><br></div><div>Stay tuned for more exciting (or not so exciting) stories of growing up in the lumber yard.</div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivox1JbbS4ZvZmtclPdrdSK8r3tU6wvGsbgT7BLIKRV2LiF46aAdX5Muaxkplgncdn9LGUJTWolHovMhlHKlcRN9m82tgrbkrU8hDSwvm253OqthbhF8YGWBqgi11JXctUmtDf/s640/blogger-image-1100897234.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivox1JbbS4ZvZmtclPdrdSK8r3tU6wvGsbgT7BLIKRV2LiF46aAdX5Muaxkplgncdn9LGUJTWolHovMhlHKlcRN9m82tgrbkrU8hDSwvm253OqthbhF8YGWBqgi11JXctUmtDf/s640/blogger-image-1100897234.jpg"></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19546038.post-65226413916804623082014-02-02T13:45:00.001-08:002014-02-02T13:53:31.664-08:00I Was Born<div>
I Was Born.......the first time.</div>
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On October 1, 1952 I was born, the third child and only son of John and Myrtle. A couple of years later I had another sister. My Mom wanted five boys. The pressure was on. And woe was me with three sisters and two being older made it even harder. I think one of the first politically correct thing I learned was putting the toilet seat down. Enough of that.</div>
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Mom got the the hospital ready to pop a baby out, but the doctor wasn't there. The nurses must not have known what to do, so they held her legs together for twenty minutes until the doctor arrived. I can't imagine that being done today, but that's what I was told. At any rate, when she finally pooped me out my head was pretty deformed and blue in color. Of course it straightened out pretty quickly and I look as normal as anyone else today. I didn't learn all this till I was in my forties.</div>
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As I grew I was physically active and enjoyed baseball and basketball as a child. In school however, I was always a little slower than my sisters and much slower than my parents and grandmother "L" thought I should be. We will never know if any of that was connected to the birth delay. I like to think it was. </div>
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I had a terrible time memorizing things and I still have trouble with that today. I took me forever to learn the alphabet and to add and multiply. I had to be tutored in reading well. Socially no one could tell I struggled with that. I was able and am still able to figure out things that a lot of people smarter than me had trouble doing. I have the ability to spot things that are wrong and then able to fix the problem. I think that is how I learned to study. I was and am a terribly slow reader, but I can look at a page and almost instantly pick out words I don't know. I was terrified when I had to read out loud in class at school. I always embarrassed myself.</div>
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Despite all of my early problems, I managed to graduate from high school and college. I worked in the family business, as expected, and feel I was successful there as well. I have probably more confidence than I should have. My wife and two kids really help me in the confidence area. They are all kind to me and respectful. God has been very good to me. When walls go up, go over or around them. Work with the gifts you have and don't fret over the gifts you may not have. Have faith that you will succeed and work towards those ends, and you will succeed. </div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19546038.post-18410721819298836432013-10-09T11:40:00.001-07:002013-10-09T11:40:30.901-07:00STORIES................Over the next year I plan to write a series of very short stories about my life and stories my father and uncle told me about things they did growing up in the lumber business.<br />
Titles will be something like this.............<br />
The Late Doctor<br />
Chisel, Hammer and Mercurochrome<br />
Playground Lumberyard<br />
Eleven Perfect Years<br />
Broken Bats<br />
The Dog and the Dog Catcher<br />
All Star to No Star<br />
Speech Therapy and Tutored<br />
Jr. High Science<br />
Coronet Lessons<br />
Sittin The Bench<br />
Dick's Sales Technique<br />
Dunker<br />
14-15-71%<br />
Song Spinners/Band<br />
Saw Christ<br />
High School Girl Friend<br />
Chose Mary Jane<br />
Rock Concerts<br />
Joker, Smoker, Midnight Toker<br />
The Tar Kettle<br />
What I Learned I College<br />
10-9-1977<br />
10-13-1978<br />
Be Careful What You Pray For<br />
3-12-1980<br />
10-25-1981<br />
In Business There Are No Friends<br />
OLA<br />
Music Booster Years<br />
Apha<br />
California<br />
Killing Chickens<br />
There may be more and I may decide to leave some of these out. I hope my children, grand children, and other family members will enjoy reading little bits of my life. This, in the end, may explain a little of my insaneness. Keep checking back for the stories.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19546038.post-68523781537327120552013-06-16T08:58:00.001-07:002013-06-16T08:58:41.529-07:00Happy Fathers Day?I have come to the conclusion that Fathers Day is a joyous day if you are with your children or your father. I have also discovered that it can be one of the saddest days of the year if you are not with them. <div>This morning was pretty hard for me. My kids live 500 and 2300 miles away from me and my father is no longer alive. I guess what has made this day especially hard this year is the fact that my mother-in-law is failing health wise. We recently moved her in with us and have found we can't take care of her and still make the move we plan in August.</div><div>We have started talking about a move for her to the nursing home. With Father's Day this morning and the thought of Irene failing, all the hard memories of Dad in the nursing home slowly going through the process of death are in my head. I'm having trouble getting those thoughts out of my head.</div><div>The thing that helps are the loving notes and comments from my children and Diana. They have always carried me through my rough times. This all of a sudden has become one of those times. As always it will pass quickly. One thing my dad taught me is that you have to move on and keep your chin up. Be positive. Everything will be alright. You know what, he has always been right. </div><div>I have faith in God and I know things will work out. God has blessed me beyond what I deserve because he is a forgiving and loving God. </div><div>I am looking forward to tomorrow, because I know it will be a great day.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19546038.post-60411760939155914902013-04-07T11:05:00.003-07:002013-04-07T11:06:07.030-07:00Our new home................<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Living room looking toward the kitchen.</div>
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Pool and east end of the house.</div>
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The front view.</div>
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We finally did it! We bought a house in Visalia, California. This is the same town Erica, Steve, Otis and Isaac live in. We will be able to watch our grand children grow up and also have close family support as we grow older. You see a few pictures above. It is a very nice house and the bonus is that we got to meet the seller who is a very nice person who loved her house. </div>
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We feel confident we will really enjoy our new home. We will be moving sometime in August. We have a lot to do in the mean time. The most important thing is for Diana to retire. Her last day at school is May 31st.</div>
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More coming later............</div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19546038.post-3342061211739194682013-02-23T06:07:00.001-08:002013-02-23T06:19:17.565-08:00Almost Spring!February 23, 2013<br />
It's another cold and dreary day in NW Ohio. I just heard a flock of geese flying over. I think a lot of them stayed over the winter as I have seen and heard them several times over the winter.<br />
Spring training has started in baseball and my beloved Detroit Tigers won their first per season game. They are picked to compete for the American League East title and the World Series. I hope they do well again this year. On paper they are a very good team.<br />
This may be my last winter in Ohio. We are planning to move to Visalia California within the year. I'm hoping to make the move by my birthday. Time will tell. I have two grandsons growing up out there and if I want to be involved in their lives, I have to be there. When I'm at the round table at Rita's, I hear other guys talking about all the games they go to so they can watch their grand kids compete. I want to be able to talk about my grand kids and actually cheer them on in sports and other school and church activities. Oh by the way, I want to spend time with my own kids and their spouse or significant other.<br />
Spring also reminds me of the resurrection of Christ and how thankful I am for the gift and grace of Jesus Christ. I am nothing without Him and through Him all things are possible. Even though there have been setbacks in my life, I have no regrets. I have been forgiven and I'm sure will continue to need and to ask for forgiveness in the future. Not one of us on this earth are perfect, but we strive to be acceptable in the eyes of our Lord. I pray peace, good will and blessings to all. God Bless you.<br />
Bill L.<br />
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I'm a little bored, but can't decide what I want to do. I always thought I'd like to sell cars, so I got a job at Bryan Ford and tried that for five weeks. That was about the most boring job I've ever had, so I quit in early December. It was also 50 hours with two evenings and Saturday hours.<br />
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Last summer I registered as a substitute teacher and have done a few days of that, but that just terrifies me. I don't know why, but it does. I guess it is because I was such a poor student and I assume half of the kids are way smarter than me. I don't want to come across looking like an idiot.<br />
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So now I'm doing things around the house in my spare time. Laundry, floors, the dishes and some cooking; all while Diana gets up and goes to work. I like helping, but feel funny saying good bye to her in the morning as she leaves.<br />
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One of these days, I'll have to get a real job again. In June when Diana retires, we'll have to start paying a lot more for health insurance. If not for the health insurance cost we could probably live nicely on her retirement especially when my social security starts in a few years.<br />
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So I'm looking for a part time job of twenty to thirty hours a week. If you have any ideas, please let me know. <br />
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We are doing well and love to here from our kids and grandsons. FaceTime is a wonderful thing as we can actually see the grandsons when we call. <br />
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That's about all for now. I hope it is a good winter for you all. <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-_hMvtMjnWT2a25NmwFXNJdcRaDgeRUP_e24-AWWxHhsZZf2QLK_m84Zzfb0Dyrwl72jrfd4ogXqtgYP3EEBHQDjMqbCDSUg1Jlp6RNdZCvqc5JCng_T5SuVOAHD2ND2-jDof/s640/blogger-image--301278278.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-_hMvtMjnWT2a25NmwFXNJdcRaDgeRUP_e24-AWWxHhsZZf2QLK_m84Zzfb0Dyrwl72jrfd4ogXqtgYP3EEBHQDjMqbCDSUg1Jlp6RNdZCvqc5JCng_T5SuVOAHD2ND2-jDof/s640/blogger-image--301278278.jpg" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19546038.post-84937155587986260562012-07-09T18:06:00.000-07:002012-07-09T18:12:07.804-07:00Four Generations <p class='bloggerplus_text_section' align='left' style='clear:both;'>Four generations of Snyder and four generations of Lutterbein in the same picture.</p><p class='bloggerplus_image_section'><div class='bloggerplus_image_section' align='left' style='clear:both;'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjXWIvky7mRXdiimRDLrbBo2pRGZJWREa_GGyqJsSMH5x4fLatMJs1Ycq20YIQY-X9uhmh6JrYHzGC3IDANh8JeqZDH1QcTC85qgOeWypWt4DvQLTM4JlVPN3JxRQDuz8mPfG2/'></div></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19546038.post-59158080903944006722012-05-10T06:56:00.001-07:002012-05-10T06:56:57.429-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE7nMVuaz2MbDtaj0C7lz0nAl3klhs0y7WqAWAYTeP4QXSpDYrNi16ZhQJj9mg7Vsw1abvdF20nka2gs0UsCixI6KRck3h97EXngNLv351CF9Vn1uVj2aiqCVB-X7JZqCmyq5D/s1600/100_0416.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE7nMVuaz2MbDtaj0C7lz0nAl3klhs0y7WqAWAYTeP4QXSpDYrNi16ZhQJj9mg7Vsw1abvdF20nka2gs0UsCixI6KRck3h97EXngNLv351CF9Vn1uVj2aiqCVB-X7JZqCmyq5D/s320/100_0416.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Good morning Burky family members,<br />Diana Lutterbein and Sandy Burky
have asked me to e-mail you to let you know Sandy is planning on having
the Burky reunion at her place in Pickens on the third Saturday/Sunday
in July. That would be July 21 and 22 for those of us with only ten
fingers and ten toes. :)<br />
Please pass this on to your family members. I don't have everyone's
e-mails. Randy, please make sure your Mom and brother get this
information. Herman, likewise, please let Alvin know. Mike, we expect
Grand-Pa-Pa to bring his grand daughter so we all can meet her..... oh
yeah, you can bring the kid's parents as well.<br />
If you have any questions...............don't ask me. I don't know anything worth knowing. Ask Sandy.<br />Thanks. Hope to see you all in July.<br />Stay happy,<br />Bill LutterbeinUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0