Now,
during all these shows--Scrooged, White Christmas, Christmas Story (Red
Rider BBgun with a compass in the stock), Rudolph, etc.--it is time for
the real story of Christmas to be heard and seen. And, who better to do this is are children at Southland Christian Church.
Rejoice! For unto us has been born a Saviour...
Now you know what really happened.
This is a re-post from 2017 Christmas. From the mouths of children....
The TV shows in the 50s and 60s were a world apart from today's shows. Back then, Red Skelton was enjoyed by the whole family. Gunsmoke was watched almost without fail. Candid Camera made us all laugh. Today's selections are different. The one show from that time period listed above was truly funny, hosted by Art Linkletter. Those kids did say some stuff that still makes me smile. How are you going to be a better boy during the next year? Obey everyone in my family, except my Aunt Freda. Why not her? 'Cause she just causes trouble and starts fights. How old is she? Eight So, your dad is a minister. So was mine. Is he a good minister? He must be a pretty smooth talker. Why? Because on Sundays almost everyone falls asleep, but me and Mom. Doesn't that make him angry? Not nearly as much as the collections. He gets two offerings and the trouble is the congregation is cheap and most of them put in pennies. What did your Dad do then? Well, he had me collect the money and not leave until a person gave some money. He said not to smile or say anything. So, I did anyway. (Big smile) What does your mom do? She's a Sunday School teacher. What does she do for fun? She plays poker and drinks beer. Okay, maybe those aren't the funniest of all time. But the children were any age from four to six. A newer version of the show was hosted by Bill Cosby.
Think back to those years, back when our lives were viewed through a screen of humor and a degree of naivete. What shows did you most enjoy?
Who's in charge here? I have heard that question in so many voices, situations.
Sometimes I am in charge, good or bad. I gladly ceded that responsibility now that I am retired. For twenty years and six-hundred students, I was in charge.
Parents, we were/are in charge. For feeding, clothing, and all sorts responsibilities for our children, we were/are in charge.
Paying bills, having the oil changed, finding lost items, etc.--we adults: we're in charge.
Given all that, some of the most amazing I'm in charge here people are children. They have no power, no reason to believe that they are in charge. Even though you and I know that a child should not be in charge in critical areas, they are in the sweetest and most amazing ways.
(The longest video is the last one. The others are less than a minute )
A three-year old taking charge here, maybe
Expressing himself to one he loves
Helping mommy
Who in charge here? Both.
There are many elements in all lives when exasperation leads to a real question: Who is in charge of me?
Summer is slipping by me. Already the fireworks have burst in the sky, while I watched them in TV. Where did the awe go? What happened to all those “Ahhhhs” and “Ohhhhs”?
Summer is measured in so many ways. I guess it comes down to that basic premise.
Summer is measured:
* in the amount of fireflies caught and held in a quart jar.
* in the first good ear of sweet corn covered with butter.
* in the wrinkled fingers of my grandchildren after swimming all day.
* in the number of times people comment on how hot it is today.
* by the splashing in the pool.
* by the number of the SPF in the sunblock lotion.
* by how high I want the A/C set.
* by the lack of football games on TV.
* by the sales of summer clothes at JCPenney.
Can you add to the list? I wonder how many measurements our blogging community can add?
The other day when I was watching my granddaughters, I found myself up stairs and getting ready to watch a movie while we lay in Mommy’s bed. Both the girls were sick and asked me if I wanted to take a nap. It would be okay with them if I wanted. Sunshine found the TV controls, and zip-zang, she showed me how to do all the remote control stuff that previously eluded me. With “Horton Hears a Who” starting, the girls lay down, telling me I could have the middle between them. They had taken all the pillows, and the middle was perhaps eight inches wide.
This isn’t going to work, I told them. I need more room than that. So I manually scooted them over, grabbed a pillow from the end of the bed, and climbed over them. The moment I extended my arms, they both rolled to nestle into me. ‘Ahhhhh’.
The Last Unicorn
Sunshine is somewhat like a puppy, which has to turn in circles a few times before finding the right spot. This time she was lying on her stomach, with her head at my knees and her feet at my head. “Draw pictures on my back, Grandma. I want a unicorn, a rainbow, a flower…” Before I drew the rainbow, Sunshine was sound asleep.
Bright Eyes placed her head on my chest. “I can hear your heart beating, Grandma,” she whispered. I wiggled my fingers into her mass of brown hair, and lifted the strands up to let the heat escape. She sighed, and blinked, then was asleep.
That left me with Horton. Before we settled in for the movie,Sunshine had found one of Daddy’s clean socks and placed it over my eyes just so. "Here, Grandma. This will help your headache." I could look down my nose and at the TV, if I wanted.
When Mommy/my daughter came home, she found us three just like that. “Oh, my, that is precious.” I agreed with her.
