JOBS I’VE HAD

I was not close to my dad while growing up. I respected him immensely. He worked for Townsend Company for forty-eight years. I knew that I had a good dad and that he loved me because my mom told me so regularly. 🙂

Although I was very interested in sports and played basketball, baseball and football with my neighbor friends – and later intramural sports at college – my father did not offer any encouragement in this area.

He did, however, invest in teaching me a strong work-ethic.

At the age of eleven, he took me for two Saturdays to Dr. Chadwick’s home [Patterson Heights, Beaver Falls] directly across from the Beaver County Country Club. He taught me to use their mower and to trim their trees and mulch their gardens. I believe he had done this with my brother, Ira, too. Dad had done around-the-house jobs for Dr. Chadwick for many years – perhaps as a way of paying off medical bills.

Those two Saturdays, he taught me principles and skills that I would need to take care of the Chadwick’s home, such as:

>  Don’t work real hard for a while and then sit down to rest! Work steady! If Mrs. Chadwick looks out the window, you always want her to see you working!

>  Never sit down to work! If there is low mulching or planting to do, do it on your knees! You don’t want Mrs. Chadwick to look out and see you sitting down on the job!

>  Do your work in a way that you can walk away proud that you did your best! Make the Chadwick’s happy that they have you as their lawn-boy!

I worked at the Chadwick’s until I left home for college. I made $1.00/hour.

Every Saturday, I rode my bike down the hill from Brighton Heights and across the New Brighton/Beaver Falls bridge, then around and under the bridge to push my bike up a road that no longer exists. It brought me out right near the Country Club – my dad called it “StoryBook Hill’.

Sometimes, on my way home, I would bike over to Waites’ Restaurant and get a hot-fudge Sundae – with my own money - before going down Ross Hill and then back to Brighton Heights!  ☺  I felt pretty big while sitting at the counter and buying and eating my treat!

Eventually others heard about my work and asked me to do their lawns. I even worked for our high school superintendent, Zachary Taylor, although I never let ANYONE know that I was doing his lawn! After I turned sixteen and was driving, I was doing six lawns in New Brighton, Beaver Falls, and Beaver!

It was good training and experience for me. I have no regrets – although I look back with some longing to have been involved in high school sports. My brother-in-law, Lib [my oldest sister, Jeannette’s husband] often worked with me and encouraged me to get into sports, but without a father to open those doors – it just never happened. Lib always felt that I had an arm that would’ve made me a successful pitcher in baseball!  We’ll never know…

With this work ethic entrenched in my young life, I began my working career. The following is a list of the many, diverse jobs that I held over the years and to the present! 

• Lawn care – when I left New Brighton, I was caring for five lawns in Beaver Falls, Beaver, and New Brighton.  It kept me pretty busy.  I also usually spent my own money.

• For a year, I cleaned the elementary school on Marion Hill.  My Dad used his influence with his childhood friend, Mel Miller, who was the Superintendent of New Brighton schools, to get me this job.

• For several summers and Christmases, I worked for Twitchell’s roofing and heating company in Willow Grove, PA as a helper. 

• I cleaned toilets and hallways in Carpenter Hall when I got to Roberts Wesleyan College, North Chili, NY.

• During the summer of 1970, I travelled with ‘The Reflections’ representing Roberts Wesleyan College at various camps, churches and youth events.

• I also worked at Chili Plastics – giving lunch breaks (from 2:30 – 4:30 AM).

• For two years I was the weekend night watchman at RWC.

• For two years, I worked at UPS on the evening loading/unloading shift in Rochester, NY.

• I was an Apprentice Pastor at Pearce Memorial Church for the summer of 1973, after my graduation from RWC.

• For a year I worked as a Bellman at a Hospitality Inn near Lexington.

• I worked at UPS in Lexington, KY for a year while I attended Asbury Theological Seminary.

• For a year I worked as a part-time Corrections Officer at the Blackburn Correctional Facility in Lexington.

• For at least six months I worked at a Phillips 66 gas station in Lexington.

• Newspaper delivery in Nicholasville, KY for a year.

• Along with George Gates, we (along with our wives) daily took turns cleaning the offices of Suburban Gas in Nicholasville, KY.

• Appointment #1 – I served as Student/Pastor to the Tunnel Hill Free Methodist Church in English, IN for a year and a half.  [Wabash Conference]

• Appointment #2 – Jeannette, PA FMC  (1976-1978)  [Pittsburgh Conference]

• Appointment #3 – McClellandtown, PA FMC  (1978-1982)  [Pittsburgh Conference]

• Appointment #4 – Oakland FMC, East Liverpool, OH  (1982-1995)  [Pittsburgh Conference]

• Internship at Highland Drive Veteran’s Psychiatric Hospital, Pittsburgh, PA  (1987)  [As a result of this role, I earned a Basic Unit of Clinical Pastoral Education.]

• Internship at Family Services Family Counseling Service, Steubenville, OH  (1990)

• Worked as a 'Counselor Trainee' for two years at Family Service, Steubenville, OH

• Internship at Woodside Psychiatric Hospital, Youngstown, OH  (1991)

• Appointment #5 – Spencerville, MD FMC  (1995-1997)  [Maryland/Virginia Conference]

• Shelter Care, Inc. – Ran a licensed home for behaviorally challenged children in Summit County.  Akron, OH (1997-2003)  [Served with Debbie]

• Appointment #6 – Cornerstone FMC (Akron, OH)  Lead Associate  (1997-2003)  [Ohio Conference]

• Appointment #7 – Free Methodist Community Church, New Middletown, OH  (2003- 2012)  [Ohio Conference]

• Oral English Professor, Changchun University of Science and Technology, Changchun, PRC  (2012-2015)

• Appointment #8 – Kittanning, PA FMC  [Part-time, Commuting Pastor]  (2015-2017)  [Pittsburgh Conference]

• Retired, June, 2017. 

• Lyft Driver – about 20 hours/week. 5 years

• Part-time, commuting Interim Pastor at The Foundery FMC in Wellsburg, WV from February through September, 1994.

I have nothing but gratitude to God for this work history. I made a lot of friends in each situation and was able to pay for three years of my college education! [My mom and dad paid the equivalent of one year – which they had promised to do when I enrolled.]  I’ve been strong and healthy throughout the years and have tons of stories and very few regrets when it comes to the way I’ve lived my life.

LEONARD

Yesterday, I wrote a Facebook post and introduced it with a somewhat negative remark about my father's lack of investment in my life.  That comment has bothered me for the last twenty-four hours.  So, I've decided to balance the scales.

My father was born in 1912, and died in 1992 (almost 80).  That means he was a witness to both World Wars, the Spanish flu and the Great Depression.  

He was raised in a small home on 7th Avenue in New Brighton, PA, with his mother, father and five sisters.  His father was an alcoholic.  His mother took in other people's laundry to be able to feed her family.  

He attended school through the eighth grade and then quit.  He lied about his age and was hired at Townsend Company (as a nail-maker) when he was fifteen (around 1927).  He worked for them forty-nine years.  I never remember him missing a day of work.  

On August 17, 1934, he married Hazel Walton.  They took up housekeeping in a home on Mt. Washington in Beaver Falls, PA, that was given to them by Hazel's mother - with the agreement that she would be able to live there with them until her death.  Mrs. Walton was apparently a woman of means since she gave each of her three girls homes on Mt. Washington.  [I never heard my father say a mean word about Mrs. Walton.]

My brother, Ira, and I recently talked about our dad and realized the providence of God in his life.  He was hired right before the Great Depression and apparently worked through that period unaffected.  My sister, Jeannette, was born in 1937, and my brother, Ira, was born in 1940 - both during the Depression!  

My sister, Beverly, came along on today's date, July 25, 1944.  I'm the only baby-boomer in our family, being born in 1952.  

My father was a Christian man who took an extremely active role in the New Brighton Free Methodist Church.  

• Class Leader (many years)
• Trustee (many years)
• Secretary of the Official Board (many years of hand-written minutes)
• Sunday School teacher (boys and later, adults)
• Delegate to Annual Conference (many years)
• Rochester District Campground Trustee (many years)
• Rochester District Secretary
• Member of the Pittsburgh Conference Stationing Committee (over twenty-five years)
• Member of the Pittsburgh Conference Board of Ministerial Education and Guidance (over twenty-five years)
• Pittsburgh Conference Delegate to the Free Methodist General Conference (five times)

Some things I remember about him:

1. He read his Bible every evening in his bedroom.
2. He knelt beside his bed and prayed every night before sleeping.
3. When our family gathered, before anyone left, he would gather us all in the living room where we would all get on our knees and he would pray over us.  

If my dad had a deficiency, it was in showing affection.  Feel free to read another blog article where I talk more about this ["I Taught My Dad To Hug" April 27, 2012].  In spite of this, I have memories:

• I have half-a-dozen memories of him taking me out to play catch - almost always on a Sunday afternoon which must have really bothered my Sabbatarian mom!
• I remember accompanying him when I was about seven to buy some trees and plant them in our yard.
• When we went camping - which we did for nearly two weeks every summer - he would lift me into the car roof carrier and let me load it with wood for our campfires.
• Occasionally, when we were camping, he would play with me in the shallow waters of the lake.
• When I was in college, my brother and I (along with a few other family members) put a new roof on his house.  It was a good time!
• Once, while I was in high school, he took me to a Pitt football game.  Remarkably, they were playing Navy!  Little did we know that I would later have a Midshipman son doing push-ups down on that field...
• He bought a second car when I was sixteen and made it almost fully available to me!
• He paid for a year of my college.

He was NEVER mean or harsh with me!  He was fair!  He was a kind and generous man.  He loved and served the Lord!  He was admired by his larger family.  My mom adored him and partnered with him to make him a better man.  He was a good provider and protector.  

I honor him today and am sorry that I put him in poor light in my post yesterday.  

Thank You, Lord, for my Dad!  Thank You for his faithfulness and for his devotion to You and Your Church!  Thank You that he loved my Mom!  Thank You for the tremendous advantages I've had in my life because I am his son!  I know he's with You today and I rejoice that someday soon, I'll see him (and my Mom) again!  Amen.  

PATH TO ADVENTURE

My dad was born and raised in New Brighton, PA.  He lived for a few years in Beaver Falls (across the Beaver River) before moving permanently back to New Brighton.  He must have had some elements of adventure because in 1955, he took our family on a trip to the west coast;  I was three and don't remember it at all.  Other than that, he enjoyed vacations to the Allegheny National Forest in New York state nearly every summer.  He and my mother made a few trips to Florida after he retired.  He participated in General Conferences of the Free Methodist Church five different times, which took him to Winona Lake and Indianapolis, Indiana.  Other than these ventures, he was pretty content to stay in one place.

I, on the other hand, have lived in Pennsylvania, New York, Kentucky, Indiana, Ohio, Maryland, West Virginia (briefly) and China.  Although I stayed in East Liverpool, Ohio for thirteen years and New Middletown, Ohio for nine years, it doesn't take long for me to get restless.  I seem to have been born without an anchor.  When Debbie and I travel, I see so many wonderful places and wonder what it would be like to live there.  Call me nomadic, I guess.  

Over the years, Debbie and I have created a mental list of places we might like to live for an extended time.  It includes:

• Dahlonega, Georgia
• Ocean City, Maryland (fall, winter and spring only)
• the Shenandoah Valley (Virginia)
• Asheville, North Carolina
• the Philippines
• Portugal
• New Zealand (OK, I just added that one)

Two years ago, we placed a manufactured home on a lot in a wonderful place in Enon Valley, Pennsylvania.  Troy and I built a great, two-car garage adjacent to the house.  I spent this summer putting in a yard and doing all the landscaping to give it the finished look.  

Before we made this enormous decision, I asked Debbie if making this move was going to kill my dream of traveling and living in various places.  We agreed that although the move gave our lives some sense of permanence, we would still be intentional about breathing life into our dreams.  

But life has a way of happening.  Debbie participates with her siblings in providing care for her aging mother, who still lives on the Whippo farm.  It's less than three miles from where we live.  Once (sometimes twice) a week, Debbie spends a 24-hour period with her mom.  It's interesting because Dolores (Deb's mom) provided care for her parents - along with her siblings - many years ago.  So, in a sense, her kids are following their example.  

You can see where this is heading, right?  Making this loving commitment is the right thing to do, but it limits our dream.  To be really honest, it limits my dream.  Debbie isn't the adventurer that I am.  She's far more content to settle and live a peaceable life.  I'm the restless one.  Now that the work is all done on our new home, I'm ready to move on...  Suffice it to say:  this makes me a hard guy to live with.

Part of our retirement dream had been to be available for short-term (or long-term) missionary assignments through the Free Methodist Church.  We actually have a standing invitation to fill a role in the Middle East, but can't really do so in light of Deb's current commitments.  Maybe someday.

Right now, I'm writing this blog article from Hilton Head Island where we're spending the better part of two weeks.  It's our first retirement escape from the winter cold.  So far, a trip to Savannah, extensive beach walking and finishing my first novel have kept me busy.  Today, boredom started creeping in;  the desire to explore and be active.  

Actually, my opportunity to stretch will be here soon.  I've been dreaming about hiking the Appalachian Trail since I was twenty-one.  I'm planning to hit the trail in Georgia in about seven weeks.  I've been buying gear and weighing everything over past weeks.  I'll be preparing food and planning drop-boxes in the intervening time.  Finally, I'll arrange my travel and shuttles to get me to the trail-head at Amicalola Falls.  

The trail is approximately 2,150 miles and runs from Springer Mountain, Georgia to Mt. Katahdin, Maine.  It also passes through North Carolina, Tennessee, Virginia, West Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, New York, Connecticut, Massachusetts, Vermont and New Hampshire.  I read somewhere that you cross over three hundred mountains during the trek.  

The closest the trail comes to our home is Carlisle, Pennsylvania (near Harrisburg).  If I make it that far, Deb will probably come to visit and resupply me.  If I make it to Connecticut, I'll pass within two hours of Tracie and Jon.  I'll take a break with them for some good food and a much-needed shower.  

In 2017, 3,839 people began the through-hike of the AT (most south-to-north).  1,723 made it as far as Harper's Ferry, West Virginia - the emotional half-way mark.  685 completed the trail.  There are many reasons for dropping off the trail:

• too hard
• an injury
• ran out of time
• ran out of money
• boredom
• emergency at home

I have been backpacking for a week several times in my life.  However, never longer.  What makes me think I can live in a tent on the trail for five-six months?  I have no idea.  It's the pursuit of a dream that materialized when I was a young man.  I'm not that young man anymore!  I'm purchasing gear that should help me to endure.  I've read hundreds of books about hiking the AT and other major trails.  

No one really knows ahead of time how they'll handle the adversity and hardships that are typically encountered on the AT.  Serial rainy days, tics, potential snowstorms (with my start date), poison ivy (a major issue for me), and the number one threat - BOREDOM will challenge me.  At 66, I will not be the oldest to take on the trail.  In 2017, the age range was from 17-74, with the average age being 32.  One in four hikers are women.  

Dale Sanders, 82, stopped to kiss his last trail marker 

before becoming the oldest person to hike 

all 2,190 miles of the Appalachian Trail within a year.

I have decided to try to raise some money for one of my favorite causes: International Child Care Ministries.  This ministry (associated with the Free Methodist Church) enables individuals to sponsor a child for a monthly fee that will insure that the child receives food, school fees, books and supplies.  In addition, they have special projects that include feeding centers and the building of schools for some of the neediest children.  

I'd love to have you invest in their special projects by sponsoring me for the miles I am able to complete.  The AT is 2,189 miles.  If you sponsor me for $.01/mile, the most you would contribute would be $21.89.  If I only complete 100 miles, then you only contribute $1.00.  

For those who doubt that I'll make it, why not volunteer for $.10 or $1/mile?  Place your bets!  

ICCM is helping kids who really don't have many advantages.  You can check them out at http://www.childcareministries.org/  I do have their permission to recruit sponsors.  To become a sponsor, you can notify me of your support in three ways:

• email:  halinasia@psmail.net
• text/call:  (724) 944-3881
• Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/halhaire

No money will pass through or go to me!  Funds will eventually be remitted to ICCM with a note indicating 'Hal's AT Hike';  that way I'll be able to tell you - down the trail - how much we raised!  :-)

International Child Care Ministries is a ministry of the Free Methodist Church of North America, a registered religious nonprofit organization with IRS 501 (c) (3) tax-exempt status in the United States of America. Also registered as such with the State of Indiana. Contributions to ICCM are tax-deductible to the extent that the law allows. 

I'll occasionally check in during my hike using my Facebook page - in case you're interested.  My projected start date is between March 9-12.  I'd like to hear from you!  Let's have some fun and raise some money for the kids!  

Dad Reflections

When I was growing up, I knew I had a good Dad because my Mom repeatedly told me:  "You have a good Dad!"  :-)   She didn't have to tell me - I knew he was a good man.  He was kind of quiet, but he had earned the respect of lots of people over the years.

He was the lay delegate to the Pittsburgh Annual Conference for decades. He was the secretary of the New Brighton Official Board and the Rochester District Conference equally as long (in those days the minutes were hand-written).  He served the Pittsburgh Conference in many capacities, foremost being a member of the Stationing Committee for over twenty-five years (now known as the Ministerial Appointments Committee).  He was a Class Leader for many years.  He was a trustee of the local church and of the Tri State Campground.  He was honored to be elected as a lay delegate to the Free Methodist General Conference five times!

Not a bad legacy for a man who dropped out of school after the eighth grade! At that time he concealed his real age in order to be hired at the Townsend Company where he ran nail-making machines for thirty years.  When they shut down the nail mill they sent him to night school to prepare him for running the new rivet machines.  He struggled with learning decimals and fractions;  I was in high school at the time and was able to help him with his homework!  :-)  After running rivet machines for about eight years, he moved to the tool-crib where he finished out his forty-eight years with the company!

He was not an affectionate man [see blog article "I Taught My Dad to Hug" written in June, 2012]. He worked a lot of overtime and then served as an evening maintenance man at the local children's home.  When he came home, my mother always had supper ready.  After the meal, he would retire to his bedroom to listen to WBVP on his stereo radio and read the evening paper.  He would only occasionally join Mom and me in watching television. He loved Gunsmoke and Paladin and also like Red Skelton (which surprised me).

I remember some Sunday afternoons when he would throw the baseball with me in the front yard. My mother - being a strict Sabbatarian - wasn't too thrilled when that happened!  By the time I was a teen, he had earned six weeks of vacation per year!  He took us camping near Salamanca, New York for two weeks every summer!  Those were fun times when I got to know him better.  He would swim with me and play games as well!

He loved my Mom and honored her in everything.  He was an excellent money-manager.  When I was four they sold their house on Mt. Washington (in Beaver Falls) and bought a brand new home in New Brighton.  I can barely remember their excitement at this move.

When our kids came along, he paid a lot of attention to them and loved them!  Fortunately, Troy and Tracie each have a few memories of Grandpap Haire!  They LOVED going to visit my folks because they had many bowls of candy in the living room!

After being extremely healthy for nearly 78 years, he struggled with physical problems for his last year-and-a-half.  He died in Mercy Hospital on the last Sunday of Family Camp in 1992.  I miss him dearly and often think of what a blessing he would be if he was still around.

Now, I'm 65 and retired.  Our children are grown and no longer dependent on us.  We delight in opportunities to spend time with them and LOVE their company!  Just this morning, I sat in worship with Troy;  then he took me to Five Guys for lunch.  We stopped to visit an old friend of mine on the way home and then he showed me a house that he's interested in.  The card he gave me stated:  "I'm blessed today...for the way you raised me, the values you instilled in your kids, your commitment to Mom, and now for your friendship..."  I'm humbled and honored!

I love being a Dad (and now a 'Poppy').  I'm SO PROUD of my kids!

Tracibeth (my personal name for her since she was born) is a truly amazing woman!  She is a great Mom and a dedicated wife!  She has been greatly appreciated over the years in the several jobs she has held (J. C. Penney's and Home Depot).  She led a support system for Navy wives during periods of Jon's deployment and mentored other wives through the reality of absent husbands for seven-month seasons.  She has co-led small groups in their church along with Jon!  She organized a Haire-family trip to Disney last October that none of us will ever forget!  She has phenomenal gifts for organization and leadership (although she doesn't fully recognize the latter yet).  When she was little, I told her that she could be anything she wanted to be.  At that time, I thought she might choose to be a lawyer, but she chose a higher path!  Everything she does makes me proud and it is impossible to express my love for her in a blog article!!!

Troy is (as stated above) one of my newest friends!  Building a garage together since last September has been an amazing way to get to know him better!  He is patient and determined to an extent that I had not fully realized before.  He has strong perfectionistic tendencies that he didn't get from me!  He is strong and capable with a consuming desire to learn new skills and gain new knowledge!  From what I can see, he is an excellent husband and cares passionately for Missy!  He loves her and prioritizes time with her on their shared days off!  I hope someday he has the opportunity to be a Dad;  I'm confident that he'd be a great one!  He surprises me with his sensitivity and his creativity. He takes his work (as a fire-fighter) very seriously and has stayed in excellent physical shape because of the importance of his work!  The word 'proud' doesn't even get close to describing my feelings about him!

Travis will always be dearly missed!  I've written about him many times before and will minimize my thoughts here.  He accomplished so much that continues to dazzle me!  I believe he was capable of doing just about anything!  I miss his input as Debbie and I make major decisions in our lives.  He was wise, impulsive, committed, mischievous, fun-loving, intelligent, determined (bull-headed), and universally respected!  He loved deeply and broadly and his circle of friendships covered all the bases [see "He Was My Friend" blog article from October, 2015].  Never a day passes without thinking of him and missing him.  He brought Josh into our lives - for which we are so grateful!  Josh's recent trip east for my retirement party gave us extended time to reminisce and share deeply together!  "Travis, I love you, son, and always will!"  His name for me was 'Pops', and I so miss hearing it from him!

So, you see, I am a blessed son and Dad!  God has been SO GOOD to me and I certainly didn't earn it and don't deserve it.

"How can I say thinks for the things You have done for me?  

Things so undeserved, yet You gave to prove Your love for me.  

The voices of a million angels could not express my gratitude.  

All that I am and ever hope to be, I owe it all to Thee.  

To God be the glory!" 

[words by Andre Crouch].  

Turning Twelve

We only have one story from Jesus' childhood.  On a trip to Jerusalem with His parents, He stayed behind when they headed for home.  You all know the story.  When they returned to look for Him - surely in a panic - they found Him discussing theology with the religious leaders in the Temple.

For Jewish families, twelve is a special age for both boys and girls.  A Bar Mitsvah (or Bat Mitzvah for girls) means son (or daughter) of the commandment.  Up until this time, Jewish children are encouraged to obey the commandments;  however, after this celebration, they are obligated to do so!  To a certain extent, they are considered adults after this celebration.

When we were raising our children, Debbie and I decided that if twelve was a special age for Jesus, then perhaps we should make it a special age for our children, too.

So, when each of our kids turned twelve, I sat down with them and talked about this age.  We talked about Jesus' experience in Jerusalem.  We talked about the fact that they were growing up.  I told them that from this day forward, their Mom and I would be giving them more freedom.  Notice:  not complete freedom, but a growing opportunity to make decisions regarding things that directly impacted them.  If they handled it appropriately, then more freedom would be given.

Travis received this news with GREAT DELIGHT!  He was ready!  I actually had to step in on one issue and limit his freedom.  He was already on a fast-track toward independence!

Troy, on the other hand, did not seem as delighted.  When Debbie or I would pitch something to him for a decision, he often delayed and leaned on us to help him choose.  He eventually grew to appreciate this emerging freedom of choice, but he resisted it more than his siblings.

Like Travis, Tracie saw the power that this announcement offered her - and she took hold of it.  Although I never had to take back any of her freedom, we could see that she liked autonomy and used it wisely.

This practice had not been modeled by our parents;  it was simply a contrivance of our own.

However, I do recall an incident from my twelfth year.  The men of the New Brighton FMC had developed a practice of having prayer around the altar on Saturday morning.  Afterward, some would go for breakfast together, while others returned to their homes.

One Saturday morning, in my twelfth year, my Dad woke me up and encouraged me to go to the prayer meeting with him.  This had never happened before;  actually, I'm not sure that it ever happened afterward either.  My Dad and I didn't do many things together, so I saw this as a great opportunity.

However, it was awkward.  I was the only kid there.  I was in the company of the men of the church - men I deeply respected.  As they gathered, they exchanged greetings and stood around talking until it seemed that everyone had arrived. Then, on someone's signal, they all headed for the altar.  I went too.

After a period of quiet, one of the men began to pray out loud.  The other men verbally agreed with him by using "Amens" or "Praise the Lord's".  There were a few times when it seemed that several men were praying at the same time. This was not new to me - it often happened in our church.  It felt good to be there.  I listened to how the men prayed and what they prayed for.

I was caught up in the moment.  My sense of God's presence was magnified. I felt like I was in a holy presence!  Without even thinking much about it, in a moment of silence, I began to pray.  I remember that the room fell silent, but that didn't bother me because I knew I was talking to God!  I don't remember my prayer.  I can't tell you what I prayed about.  But I can tell you this:  it was the first time in my life that I felt the filling of the Holy Spirit! He was directing my thoughts.  He was listening and responding to my twelve-year-old prayer.  The men with me at the altar were agreeing with me now. My voice rose!  I spoke with authority.  Tears crept down my face as I prayed.  It was a powerful and formative moment.  I've never forgotten it!

My father never said anything to me about my prayer - he was a man of few words, but I did sense that he was proud of me.  When the prayer time ended and we left the altar, almost every man clapped me on the back and gave me an encouragement of some kind.  I felt an acceptance that I'd certainly never felt before!

It was for me a coming of age!

Sports

When I was a kid, churches didn't have sports teams.  To be honest, they didn't have to.  In that time period we had the YMCA.  Back then it was truly a Christian organization.  I went to the 'Y' several times a week after school to participate in athletic activities.  My Dad would pick me up on his way home from work or, I'd walk home.

Once-a-year, they'd sponsor a 'Father/Son Banquet'.  This was one of the few things that my Dad and I did together.  We'd have a good meal and sing some fun songs together.  There would always be funny stories and a speaker. Awards would be presented.

Then the 'Y' would be open for the fathers and sons to use.  My Dad and I would usually swim together.  It was fun.

Because my Dad was not a hunter or fisherman, I never learned about those things from him.  Growing up, my friends didn't do these things either.

My brother-in-law, Lib, took me fishing a few times along the Beaver River.  I remember him teaching me how to take a catfish off the hook without getting hurt.  But I never owned a fishing rod of my own.

My Dad's encouragement was toward work;  so that's what I did.  He taught me how to care for our doctor's lawn when I was eleven.  I did so until I left home at the age of seventeen.  By then, I had added several more lawns to my job-list and was earning my own spending money.

Lib tried to get me involved in sports.  He saw my potential and often had me throw the baseball with him in the backyard.  He thought I had the ability to pitch and encouraged me to try out for the baseball team.  That never happened.

I did go out for the track team one spring.  The coach didn't know what to do with me, so he sent me to the pole-vaulting area.  The only coach was another student who had shown some ability at vaulting.  By the end of the season, I cleared 10'.  No one was impressed.

However, I did play lots of backyard sports!  I grew up on 'Brighton Heights'. There were lots of neighbor kids to play with along with school friends who lived fairly close.  We met after school at the Phillip's house. They had a big yard and allowed us to play in it.  Sometimes there were two of us and other times there were ten.

We played basketball, baseball and football.  The Phillips' yard also had a tennis court.  On warm Saturday nights we'd often get a big turn-out for a game of "kick-the-can".  My favorite place to hide was the lilac bush! This was a highlight until my Mom ruined the fun by calling me inside!

I tried out for basketball when I hit high school - along with sixty-seven other boys!  The coach was overwhelmed!  He set up ten stations where we had to perform tasks.  One of the stations was jumping rope.  I didn't know how to jump rope - I was cut from the team.

I did have a moment of glory before I was cut - sort of...

The coach had us line-up at opposite ends of the court.  I was pushed to the front of our line.  Opposite me was the star of the team, Rick Messick.  The coach put the ball center-court and told us we were to race our opponent to the ball.  He whistled and I took off!  Amazingly, I got there first and grabbed the ball!

A split-second later, Rick arrived and wrestled me to the ground until he ripped the ball from my hands.  I was utterly shocked.  The coach praised Rick for his aggressive play and we each went to the ends of our lines.

I did especially grow up loving to play softball.  I didn't play on organized teams until later in life, but I loved this game and was fairly good at it. Somehow, I had learned the skill of place-hitting.  Consequently, I could often get on base by placing the ball down the first or third-base line!  It was a love that flourished at Family Camp every summer.

When I got to college, I participated in intramural sports as fully as I could:  soccer and flag football.  I got to know several of the players on the tennis team and often competed with them, but I never had the courage to try-out for the team!

I'll soon be adding some stories about the sports experiences that I learned as I led my first churches.  I always found men who were eager and willing to teach me about the sports they loved.  So, stay tuned for some stories about coon-hunting, fishing, deer hunting, raquetball, and trapping!  Some amazing men let me tag along on their adventures which created some memorable moments for me!  :-)

I TAUGHT MY DAD TO HUG!

I was seventeen and a freshman in college.  That first fall I was mid-way through a General Psychology class.  We were studying a section on the family.  The text stated the importance of telling your family members that you love them. 

It hit me!  My Dad had never told me that he loved me.  Now I knew that he loved me;  my mom had told me a thousand times:  "You have a good Dad and he loves you."  She seemed to sense his inability to express affection.

In my young mind, this had to change!

I hitch-hiked the 250 miles back to New Brighton that Friday, walked into the house - past my Mom - straight to my Dad and hugged him, kissed him on the cheek, and whispered in his ear:  "I love you, Dad!"

Have you ever hugged an ironing board?

No response.

[I'm guessing that my grandfather (whom I never knew, and who had a serious problem with alcohol) never hugged my Dad and probably never told my Dad that he loved him.] 

When I left to go back to college on Sunday afternoon, I repeated the new ritual.  And did so over and over again every time I was around my father. 

After many months, he began to respond by grunting: "Uh."  After many more months his response became:  "Uh-huh."  After a year or two he began to say, "Me too."  Eventually, he began to respond to my embrace by hugging me back.  After years he was able to respond:  "I love you, too."

And when I was in my mid-forties, he told me that he loved me - unsolicited!  That was a happy day!

PLANTING TREES

I was probably six or seven years old.  My Dad took me along as we drove to a friend's house down on Oak Hill.  In his back yard he had cultivated some silver maple saplings.  We selected about four.

We took them home, dug some holes and planted them in strategic places in our yard.  They varied in height from three to five feet.  It was fun working with my Dad!

Those saplings grew much faster than I did!  Before long, I was climbing them.

Over time, I helped top them several times.  My Mom would comment every time, "Well, Leonard, I think you killed them this time."  I always got the feeling that the neighbors were laughing at our work...

But the next year they would be just beautiful!

Dad and I raked the leaves and burned them in the yard every fall.  I loved that job and the smell of burning leaves is still one of my favorites. 

Hmmm.  Is it because of the smell - or because it takes me back to good times with my Dad? 

The next time I'm in New Brighton, I'll ride past and see if they're still there! 

BUZZY'S

I remember my father telling me about his first haircut.  He was a teenager and his father took him.  He said that when the barber touched his head with the electric shears, he felt a shock go through his whole body.

Then came the day that my Dad took me with him to Buzzy's Barber Shop.  It was at the top of Ross Hill Road in Patterson Heights (Beaver Falls).  The shop was located in a small corner of a fire hall, right beside Waite's Restaurant.

Buzzy was an older Italian man whose English I had a hard time understanding.  He was stern and lacked a gentle hand.  The shop smelled of tonics and colognes;  it had a masculine fragrance that I enjoyed. 

It was a male environment.  I heard words there that I never heard at home.  I remember my Dad winking at me when it happened.  I was always the only boy there.  Most men weren't willing to spend $.75 to get their son's hair cut.

My Dad always went first.  It made me proud to be there with him.  This was one of the few things we did together - it felt like a male rite of passage.

When it was my turn, Buzzy threw a booster seat on top of the arms to the barber chair.  He covered me with a sheet and pinned it tightly around my neck.  He mostly used his scizzors and seemed to enjoy making them work fast - whether he was actually cutting hair or not.  I assumed that was just a hazard of being a professional barber!

When he was finished, he put Vitalis on my hair and combed it to look real nice. 

I grew up going to Buzzy's with my Dad.  Later, I drove there by myself.  Then, I went to college and grew my hair long.  When I would go home for a visit, I would often wake up on Saturday morning and find a dollar and a quarter on the corner of the kitchen table.  I knew what it was for!

DADS AND AFFECTION

When I was a kid, we went to church a lot!  Every Sunday morning featured Sunday School and Morning Worship.  Then there was an evangelistic service every Sunday night.  Christian Youth Crusaders was on Tuesday night, and Prayer Meeting was on Wednesday.  Then, twice a year we would have a week-long revival with meetings every night. 

My folks were strong supporters of the church;  so, I was in church a good bit of my life. 

I had wonderful parents!  My Mom was the primary parent;  I always had the sense that she held things together.  My Dad was more quiet and far less affectionate.  I knew my Dad loved me because my Mom constantly told me that he did! 

I rarely had physical contact with my Dad.  He had been raised by an alcoholic Dad, so I think he had some deficits when it came to expressions of affection.  However, there were two times when we connected physically.

Every night, when my Mom would prepare me for bed, she would send me to kiss my father 'Good-Night'.  He would drop his newspaper and I would crawl up on his lap and kiss his cheek.  It tickled my lips because of his whiskers.

We also touched with some frequency in church.  Occasionally, I would sit between my parents.  This allowed me to raid my Dad's suit pocket for candy.  I would find prizes like root beer barrels, or those pink 'Pepto-Bismol' candies! 

Other times, I would lay with my head on my Mom's lap and play with my Dad's hand - which was draped around her shoulder.  I would stick my little fingers in between his thick, rough fingers.  Suddenly, they would close like a vice and I was caught.  Gradually, he would release me and the game would start all over again! 

When I became a Dad, I rarely had the opportunity to sit with my family in church;  I was always on the platform.  I loved Family Camp, because it gave me the privilege of sitting with my family!  Even today, I rarely get to sit with Debbie in church.  That's one of the down-sides of being a pastor! 

I'd like to encourage dads who still have children at home, and husbands who get to sit with your wives in church.  Use this time to show affection for your loved ones.  Put your arm around your wife and squeeze her.  Hold your children on your lap.  Let them hear you pray and sing.  I remember that when I would whisper an 'Amen', my kids would often mimic my words.  That's a good thing!  Make it happen!

My Dad:  Leonard Wilson Haire!  :-)

TOUGH GUY

My Dad worked for Townsend Company for forty-eight years.  Most of those years were in the Fallston Plant across the Beaver River from New Brighton.  However, he spent a few years at the Elwood City Plant and one year at the Butler Plant.

He had a remarkable attendance record.  He ran nail-making machines for over thrity years.  When I was in high school, the plant changed over to making rivets.  Dad had to go back to school;  I helped him learn to work with decimals.  Then, his last ten or twelve years he worked in the tool crib.

He lied about his age to get the job.  The first week on the job, some of the men cornered him in the men's room to initiate him.  They intended to paint certain private parts red! 

Dad was the first to leave the room.  He left with no paint on him!

ADAM AND EVE

They knew something that none of the rest of us have known - a guilt free life!

We can only imagine what that must have been like.  No sin.  No remorse.  No shame.  No regrets. 

A clear conscience is a valuable thing! 

We don't hear it much these days, but when I was growing up in the church people gave testimonies describing what it was like for them to give their life to Christ. 

Over and over you heard things like: 

• "I feel so clean!"
• "It's like a burden has been lifted!"
• "I feel light as a feather!"
• "I'm free!"

In Pilgrim's Progress, at the point of salvation Pilgrim's napsack is released from his shoulders and rolls away from him.

I believe this is the closest we can come to experiencing what Adam and Eve knew.

Unfortunately for us, living in a sinful world causes us to accumulate more sin and guilt and shame. 

We must train ourselves to come regularly to God for forgiveness.  The prayer He taught His disciples was a model for daily prayer that included the words:  (Luke 11:3-4 - NASB)

Forgive us our sins, for we ourselves also forgive everyone who is indebted to us.

If we are disciplined in staying close to God, we can enjoy the benefits of living with a clear conscience. 

You ask, "Is this possible?"

In Acts 23:1, the Apostle Paul says,

Brethren, I have lived my life with a perfectly good conscience before God up to this day.

So I would say, "Yes, it is possible!"

God didn't love Paul any more than He loves you! 

My Dad used to spend most of his evenings in his bedroom.  He had a nice radio and comfortable chair there and would spend the time listening to WBVP and reading the newspaper.  I would occasionally slip in to talk with him.  I often caught him on his knees at his bedside.  I never heard what he was saying, but I think he was clearing the slate before he went to bed!  Not a bad idea!

THE TALK

Everyone grows up thinking their Mom is the best cook in the world!  I was no different.

My Dad was a man of few words and rare affection.  After I became engaged, he and I were alone one day;  he started out:  "Son, now that you and Debbie are engaged..."

I thought to myself:  "This is Dad's 'Marriage Talk'".  I was anxious to receive his advice.  I respected him and knew I needed all the help I could get.

His next words (after an awkward pause):  "...don't ever compare Debbie's cooking to your Mom's!"

I made a mental note:  "OK, that must be really important since he said it first."  Then I waited for whatever was next...

Nothing else came.  That was it!  "Don't ever compare Debbie's cooking to your Mom's!" 

I thought:  "Wow!  That must be important!"

We were married.

I noticed immediately that Debbie's cooking was VERY different from my Mom's.  I said nothing.

However, after eating Debbie's cooking for a year, I decided to venture into the dangerous ground of disobedience.

First, I told her the story of my Dad's 'talk'.  Then, I told her that after eating her cooking for a year, I realized that my Mom cooked nearly everything well-done!

She smiled.  We laughed. 

Last night, I had 'The Talk' with Troy.  I covered a little more than my Dad did...    :-) 

EGG NOG

My Mom was a staunch believer in abstaining from drinking alcohol!  She was a member of the WCTU (Women's Christian Temperence Union) and a registered member of the Prohibitionist Political Party. 

The reasoning I was taught - from an early age - was that if one drink can even possibly lead to alcoholism, then why run that risk?

My Dad worked part-time as the custodian (handy-man) for a local children's home throughout my childhood.  He would work eight hours in the mill and then a couple of hours at the children's home.  He was loved and appreciated there.

Every Christmas, Mrs. Hasselback - the director of the home - held an elaborate party for the board and primary financial supporters.  Our family was always included in this event. 

My Mom and I would sit quietly out-of-the-way, while my Dad moved about the crowd comfortably conversing with people. 

One year, the party featured egg nog, something that my father loved and didn't very often get.  As he refilled his cup and worked around the room, he seemed to grow louder and a bit more outgoing than usual.

My Mom told me to get a cup of egg nog and bring it to her.  She smelled it and sent me to my father with the message:  "Don't drink anymore egg nog!"

I think my Dad slept really well that night! 

WALKIE TALKIE'S

I was probably about 10 or 12 years old.  We played army a lot in our neighborhood.  Doing so would take up whole summer days!  The nearby woods provided the perfect place to build forts and then attack one another.

About that time, walkie-talkies became  very popular.  I knew that having walkie-talkies would give our side a huge advantage in fighting our wars.  So, I asked for a set for Christmas.  I knew they were expensive and wasn't sure that I'd receive them.

In the course of opening presents, I eventually unwrapped a box and saw that it was a set of walkie talkies!  With excitement, I opened the box and found...

...one walkie-talkie!

Think about it.  What good is one walkie-talkie?  Who are you going to talk to?

After a moment of feigned joy and obvious disappointment, my Dad made a suggestion:  "Why don't you put the antennae up, turn it on, and start talking into it?  Maybe if you listen carefully, you'll find another one."

Hope rising, I did as he suggested.  I began walking through the house talking into my solo walkie-talkie!  Through the kitchen and bedrooms.  Nothing in the bathroom.  Into the garage.  Nowhere else to go except the basement.  Finally, in the far corner of the cellar, I started to hear my own voice.  Buried in my Mom's old 'ringer washer', I finally found walkie-talkie #2.

It was a happy Christmas - thanks to the fun my Dad always added with his unique twist on finding presents!