Autobiography Of L. Dale Horton

Autobiography of Lawrence Dale Horton

This is the second addition, Mar 2009, any addition are italicized as is this sentence.
These are the type of things I would like to have known about my parents, grandparents etc. (I started writing this, Oct., 2002, and have got this far Dec., 2008. I have done 75% of it the last two months, and it looks like I will be printing it without total correction of punctuation typo’s and grammar, not enough time.)
In June ‘03 I attended a Creech family reunion. Those attending were: the one surviving daughter, Birdie, of seven children, 17 surviving of 22 grandchildren of Richard Eli, and Mandy Belle Creech (there are only 12 cousins left now). I was able to receive a great deal of family history and genealogy records there. I discovered that I came from a frontier family. Note that my 8th great grandfather, Henry Creech, was born in 1610 in England.
His son, Henry C. Creech, was born about 1635 in James City, Virginia. For 4 generations they moved back and forth to N. Carolina. Josh Jr. was born in Pa., 1784. Evidently Josh Jr. crossed the Cumberland Gap, because his second son, Jim, was born in Rutherford County, Tenn. in 1818, near Nashville.

Jim moved west and was married in 1837 in Lincoln county, Missouri, 40 miles north-east of St Louis. His oldest son, Jess, who fought for the South in the Civil war, moved to Indian Territory. His third son, Eli Richard, (my grandfather,) was born in Thackerville, Indian Territory, on the Texas border South of Okla. City in 1871. My uncle Willie, Mom’s brother, moved to California. I moved to Alaska. So we have-
1610 Creech - England.
1635 Henry Creech - Virginia
1755 Josh Creech Sr. - Virginia
1785 Josh Creech Jr. - Pennsylvania
1818 Jim Creech - Tennessee
1841 Jess Creech - Missouri
1871 Richard Creech - Indian Territory
1903 Willie Creech - California
1932 Dale Horton - Alaska
These dates and locations certainly describe the extreme frontier.

In 12 generations my ancestors moved from England to Virginia, South Carolina, Pennsylvania, Tennessee, Missouri, Indian Territory, Calif. and finally to Alaska, the last frontier. So, it was from sea to shining sea, seemingly as much on the frontier as possible.
At least two other of my grandparent’s ancestors arrived in Virginia from England in the 1600’s, and made their way west to Okla.

P

arents: My father was William Ralph Horton, born 4/14/1906, near Stuart, Indian Territory, Oklahoma. Deceased 3/20/1977. He died of cancer. My mother was Gertrude Belle Creech, born 9/5/1906, near Fitzhugh, or Fitz’s’ town, a rural address about 8 miles South of Ada, Indian Territory, Oklahoma. Mom and Dad met while in college at Eastern State Teachers College in Ada I saw Mom May/1986 in Bethany, and she visited me in Wasilla in Nov. of that year. When Mom died Feb/13/1987 I became a orphan at the age of 54 for the first time in my life, and still am one. See back page for family tree.


My siblings are:
William Doyle Horton, born 7/12/1927, deceased 2/25/1996. He died of cancer. He was in the Air Force, and worked for Roadway Freight Lines.

Kenneth Don Horton, born 6/4/1929, Deceased 12/13/1955. He died in an auto accident in San Antonio, Texas. He had been a Nazarene pastor 1 & 1/2 years.

Lawrence Dale Horton, Born 10/18/1932

Ralph Dean (Bone) Horton, Born 6/23/1935. Deceased 6-8-2004. He died of cancer. He was a Science school teacher.

Trudy Deloris Horton, (Lu-Lu) (T. Deloris) Born 10/20/1943. She is still kicking, and is a retired school teacher.

E
arly memories: I was born in my mother’s parent’s home. We lived in Oklahoma City. Mom just went home to her mom’s house, so that Aunt Sister could take care of her during my birth. Recently, I heard that Mom was born in Fredrick, Oklahoma Territory, and moved to the farm when she was two.

I was very young when I was born, so I do not actually remember the incident of my birth. The first thing I can remember is when Bone was born. I would have been 2 years and 8 months old. I can recall putting my finger in his curled fist. The location of the crib was on the north wall in the living room. The door and window faced out on the long porch of the red house. It was long and narrow, sitting behind another house. I can remember a neighbor girl that I played with, coming to the porch while I was in the house. Being June, the windows were open. She asked, “Little boy, can you come out and play?” I replied, “I am not a little boy, the little boy is over there”.

I remember dad buying a new ‘37 Ford V8, for $800, during the time we lived there. One day when he came home from Safeway, where he was a butcher, with some groceries. I was trying to get a watermelon out of the car, and I dropped and broke it! Our next house, a rental, was bigger, and a regular house. It was white, with a front porch. I can remember that on Sunday afternoons we had to take a nap. I think we had to nap so Mom and Dad could nap. Then we would have homemade ice cream. I remember bugging them about how long before we could have it. Finally dad said, “30 minutes”. I can recall staring at the clock, counting ever seconds and the minutes until the 30 minutes was up, and then trying to get dad out to get it cranking.

The school was only a couple of blocks away, and the first day of kindergarten I decided at recess that I didn’t like school, so I went home. Of course mom took me back, and they made me go another 13 years. I guess I never did get to like school, until maybe college.

When I was 5 years old, I ended up in the hospital and had my tonsils taken out. I thought it was a pretty good deal, because there were kind women dressed in white ,who would let me have all the ice cream I wanted.

Our next house we bought. It was at 2118 N. Kellum in N.E. Oklahoma City. Twenty Third St. was a major street, and a couple of blocks up from us on it was a vanilla wafer cookie factory, that emitted the best odors. You could buy a sack of broken cookies for a dime.

The school was on 24th or 25th. The best thing I liked about it was the fire drills. On the 2nd floor, at one of our windows, was a fire slide, a metal tube about 30” round. You slid down to escape a fire. The only bad part was, they only had fire drills once a month.

While living there, I remember Pearl Harbor, and breaking my left arm playing airplane. (A bigger boy would lie on the ground on his back with his feet pulled back, and a smaller boy would sit on them while he launched you a few feet.)

One Christmas I had a boil on the inside joint of my left knee. In fact I still have the scar from it. Anyway, I couldn’t walk. Dad had to carry me to the big Municipal Auditorium, where Safeway had its big Christmas party for all its employees and families from all over the state. All the kids got a gift. That year my gift was roller skates, and I could not use them for 2 or 3 weeks.

It was the same auditorium where the 1940 General Assembly was held for the Church of the Nazarene. I remember going to it and hearing Bud Robinson preach. Also, while we lived there our (my) collie dog, Snip, was killed by a neighbor.

Around the age of 7, our family went to Amarillo to meet uncle Dewey and aunt Venna, and their 3 girls. We drove to Mexico, somewhere beyond Raton Pass, to camp for a week. There was one tent big enough for all 11 to sleep in, on about a foot of loose hay. There was a nearby creek with a log across it, and an open area amidst the big trees to play ball in. One day, everyone but Bone, Aunt Venna and me, hiked up to the snow level. On the way to New Mexico we drove to the top of Mt. Capitan, a volcano near Raton. The only other trip I can remember was when I was about 15. Mom, Dad, Bone, Trudy and I went to Carlsbad Cavern in New Mexico

While living on Kellum, (when I was 8 or 9), I started selling the “Saturday Evening Post”. It came on Wednesday every week, and I would go door to door, selling them for a dime. Also about this time, I started delivering a twice- weekly shopper paper to every house in a certain area on Thursday afternoons, and Sunday morning before church. I remember coming home on hot summer afternoons from delivering the paper on my bike, burning up with heat, and a splitting headache. I can remember in the winter wading through snow drifts that came up to my chest. Life was tough back then! We attended Okla. City First Church, Of the Nazarene. We never missed. When I was in the 3rd grade, I had the prettiest Sunday School teacher I ever saw. Her name was Mary. The part I liked best about church, was playing on the metal bar fence that went along the walk. R. T. Williams, Jr. was the pastor. I can remember hearing Bud Robinson and Holland London Sr., and J. B. Chapman preach. During the war, because of gas rationing, we attended a smaller Nazarene Church that was close enough to walk to.

Dad was a butcher for Safeway, so when we could afford meat, he brought home some good stuff. About once a month he would bring home calf-brains. Mom would cook them with scrambled eggs. I still remember the taste and the smell. I ate them, but haven’t decided yet if I liked them or not. There was a lot of rationing because of the war- gas, tires, food. Instead of butter, we ate margarine. It was white, with a little packet of yellow coloring. We would have to stir it in. It
didn’t change the taste any, but it was an attempt to make you think it was butter.

Left: Dale, 2nd birthday.
Middle: Don, Dale. About 1941-42
Right: Dale, Mom, Doyle, Trudy, (T. Deloris) Dean, (Bone).


Left: Dale & bike, 2nd: Dale 1945, 3rdLady, Ginger, DaleRight: Don, Dale, Doyle, 1935

Left: Dale probably 2nd grade.

Right: Dean, Dale, & friend Don Bragg, and Lady




While in grade school during World War II, our school starting making blankets to send to the soldiers. Boys and girls alike learned to knit. We would knit 6” squares of yarn and then sew them together to make a blanket. I spent all my spare time knitting. I don’t know how many squares I knitted, but to me then, it was a lot. After the war, I got some green yarn and started to knit me a neck scarf. It got to be about 4’ long and I lost interest in knitting. Betty still has it someplace waiting for me to finish it. I still remember how to knit.
Two days after I turned 11, I had a traumatic childhood experience. Mom went to the hospital to get and bring home the fifth boy in our family. Instead, she brought home a girl. I was devastated- a girl in our house, impossible. I was really upset, and to make matters worse, Mom’s friend, Elsie Bowers, who was helping, started calling her Trudy, instead of Deloris. All 4 of us boys went by our middle names starting with a D. The problem was that she was a Trudy, and the name stuck. I quickly got over her being a girl, but I call her T. Deloris now.

I was 12 when dad bought an “Independent Grocery Association” story in Carnegie Oklahoma, 100 miles S.W. of Oklahoma City. The phone number for the store was #8, occasionally, when I answer a phone even now, I want to say “I. G. A.”

We moved there in the spring, and I finished the 6th grade. Some guys I knew went to Boy Scout camp that summer. I couldn’t, because I was not old enough. As soon as I turned 13, I joined the Scouts, so I could go to Scout Camp.

Y
outh Memories: I took being a Boy Scout seriously, and before I outgrew the Scouts, I had advanced to one merit badge short of the Eagle rank, the highest achievement. You had to have a “life- saving” badge to be an Eagle, and you had to take it in a scheduled class out of town. I was never able to schedule it. I had the highest achievement of any Scout in my troop at that time.

Of course I went to all the scout camps, etc. They were held about 50 miles away in the Wichita Mountains. Our camp had no improvements, only a creek and a grassy beach. The good part about the camp was, a quarter mile up the creek around a bend, in a narrow steep canyon, was a clear cool pool about 20’ by 35’, surrounded by rock, and it was said to be 40’ deep. We could climb the cliff to various heights and jump or dive in. It was a twice daily ritual, and well worth going to camp for. We also did a lot of hiking and climbing.





One summer going to camp, two friends and I decided to ride our bikes to camp. It was fifty miles. Ralph was one of them. I can’t remember the other guy. At the last moment my bike was broken, so I borrowed my brother Don’s bike. We got up at 2 a.m. and left in order to be there when the others got there. About 35 miles later, we were in the mountains and looking up at an eagle, Ralph and I ran into each other, his pedal into my front wheel. It tore out over half of my front spokes. So I put the bike beside the road, and sat down to wait for the truck and others to come. Having gotten up early, I went into a deep sleep. Somebody stopped and stole my bike. I had to buy Don a new one.

Our Boy Scout weekly meeting was Monday night at the High School. One Monday night after the meeting, Billy Joe Hill one of my good friends who lived a block or 2 from me were on our way home from a Scout meeting, it was about 9 PM, and stopped by a filling station to get a drink. (Then gas stations had water and air hose’s at each end of the pump island). We got a drink and then started squirting each other with water. Shorty Nelson the town drunk came stumbling along taking a few steps stopping to get his balance and then on a few more, as he approached he started yelling at us to quit playing with the water hose, and stumbled toward us with a threaten action. Billy Joe was closest to (Dale, Jr High graduation) him and turned his hose on Shorty, we soon had him soaking, I don’t know if it helped to sober him any, it sure didn’t cure his cursing us, he tried to chase us as we laughed staying away from him. After I went to college I heard that Shorty got saved in our church and quit his drinking.
I had to work in Dad’s store, of course, as did my brothers. Mom even became a checker during rush hours. The problem with working in the store was, the pay was not very good. So, I began delivering groceries around town on my bike. I got $.25 a basket.

I decided I needed more money, so I got a paper route. This was a twice- a- day paper route- the “Daily Oklahoma” in the morning, and the “Oklahoma City Times” in the afternoon. In a few months another route came open, and I took it also. In the course of time, I had all 5 paper routes in Carnegie.

Doyle’s girlfriend Ina’s dad had the local blacksmith shop. I got him to build a metal basket for the front of my bike that would hold 2 baskets of groceries, and one over the back wheel. The front one would hold 75 to 100 unfolded newspapers, standing on edge. I would fill the basket with unfolded papers, start my route, and never stop until I got back for more. I folded them as I rode, and threw them on the roofs and into the flower beds with ease.

The paper company offered prizes for signing up new customers. I think I won about everything they offered, including a week’s vacation to Chicago, a second one to Galveston Texas, A 22 Mossberg repeater rifle, (which I still have), and all kinds of clothing, camera, etc. One Christmas I won 4 heavy sweaters and gave 3 of them to my brothers.

Often T. Deloris would ride in the afternoon route with me and she would ‘‘con” me into stopping by the “5 & 10” store to buy her some “trinket”. One of my fond memories is stopping by the local bakery at six AM on a cold morning and getting three doughnuts, hot out of the grease, for a dime. They would melt in your mouth. I wish I could find some like them now. (I did, after Bone read this. He told me about “Krispy Kreem”, a national chain. They are identical to my memory).

Of course with all those jobs, plus farm work I did, I had money, and had my own bank checking account. I bought my own clothes, and if I needed a new bike, I bought it. In addition to these jobs, before school I would go by the Post office and deliver “Special Delivery letters”, $.75 a letter.

Because I was tall, (ended up being 6’ 3 1/2”), I had an extension welded on my seat and handle- bars. Almost no one else could ride my bike. So, with the high seat and two big baskets on it, it was a one- of- a- kind bike. Because I was on it so much, it was well known. I wore out several bikes doing all of those things.

I went back to Carnegie in 2001 for my 50th High school reunion, and was preaching in a revival that week in my home Church. I was out walking one morning and met an old man in the park. He asked if I was there for the reunion, and wanted to know my name. As soon as I told him, the first thing he said was, “the guy with the bike!” I hadn’t seen him for 50 years.

One fall Saturday Night during this period, ( probably junior high school), my then best friend, Gene Robinson and I, (whose dad owned the other grocery store in town a half block down from ours), got on our bikes after work slowed down. (Then all the stores in town stayed open till 10:00 pm on Saturday Nights. They did this so that the farmers could come to shop without losing a day in the field.) We each had appropriated a cigar from our dad’s store. We went down to the city park by the river, and sat on the edge of a push merry-go-round, and started kicking ourselves around. We lit up our first stogie, smoking them as we went round and round. Well, it wasn’t too long before I was really sick, throwing up, etc. I don’t remember if Gene got sick or not. Years later I found out that I could just smell a cigar, see a merry-go-round, and start feeling nauseous.

When I was 13 or 14, dad bought a horse, a gentle Chestnut mare named “Lady”. I fell in with love her, and I rode as often as I could. After a while she had a colt we named “Ginger”, because of his color. Later on we named another one, “Pal”, because he was a Palomino. We had a lot behind our house that we kept Lady in. Later on, they ended up down on the farm. I remember racing them with “Hurk”, riding bareback. I still like horses, and currently keep 7 of them.

I had several jobs of farm work, especially cotton picking. This would start in September, and sometimes go through February. I would pick every Saturday and holiday. My folks would let me skip school a couple of weeks to pick cotton. You would pull a 12’ canvas sack with a strap across your shoulder, and bend over, drag it down the rows, and pick on both rows. You could get 100 lbs. in a sack. They paid $2 a hundred. One fall, a farmer I worked for a lot, had a 40 acre field that he only got one pulling off of. If it was good cotton, you would pick a field 2 or 3 times. It still had cotton in it but not enough that anyone would pull it. He told me I could have it if I would give him ¼ of it. Dad had a small cattle truck. I would take it out after school every day and on Saturday, and pick. I would do good to get 200 lbs. on a Saturday. But because I sold it to the gin, I made about twice what I would otherwise. It was February before I finished that 40 acres. . The most I every picked in a day was 608 lb. Not bad for 10 hours work. Farm labor paid only $.60 an hour. I also worked in cotton and corn- chopping and thinning, cutting weeds, cutting broom corn, riding a hay baler, poking and tying wires, and plowing up wheat stubble. One summer Hurk and I kept a diesel tractor going 24 hours a day, with one of us plowing all night.

Cutting broomcorn was some of the hardest work I ever did. Broomcorn looked like corn but was 10’ or 12’ high. It was always planted on creek bottoms for the good soil, so there was very little wind, when you harvested it in June. It had chaff that covered you as you worked and would itch. The process included several steps, first you had to table it. To table it 2 guys would go down adjoining rows breaking it over waist high so it lapped over each other’s row making a table. After the field was tabled you used sharp, short knives and cut off the top 2 feet that you now could reach. This contained the straw like pieces that became the broom. There were 20 or 30 of these straws on each head and were covered with small seeds. These were stacked in bundles on every other table so a wagon with only a head and tail board could go down the empty row, where you then would load them. When the wagon was full they were taken to the storage drying barn, and deseeded by running them through a special machine. Then they were spread out in the drying barn on shelves so they could dry, a few weeks later they were collected and bailed and sent to market. It was such hard, hot, itchy work that the farmers paid more per hour to get workers. The farm workers knowing how hot and hard it was would tease new comers saying they would not come back the second day. Many of them didn’t. As long as I can remember when I got real hot I would get a bad headache and unless I cooled off I would soon throw up. In fact it happened the last day I worked at Dominica. Sure enough the first afternoon, I went through that process, fortunately because it was in the creek bottoms I went to the creek and got wet and cooled off and continued back to work. After that the locals really teased me, but I was back the next day and every day for 2 weeks till the harvest was over, every day I took my upchuck break and would go to the creek to get wet and cool off.
Hurk and aunt Birdie spent a lot of time at our house, so Hurk and I became best friends. He was as good a cotton picker as I was, so we were always trying to outdo each other. At one end of town alongside the rail road track was the big train water tank, for putting water into the steam locomotives. It was probably 40’ high, 15’ across, and 10’ deep. In the summer we would go down there at night, and climb up it and go swimming. Once we saw aunt Birdie driving down Main Street, looking for us. There was about a 3’ square platform up there, so it was hard for 2 guys to get undressed and dressed after swimming. Once in getting dressed I dropped a shoe into the water, and I barely managed to get it. I was frantic. I didn’t know how to explain a missing shoe to mom.

I took agriculture classes in high school, because it was easy. I had to have a project, so I bought 50 baby chickens. We had a shed behind the garage, and I was able to keep them there. I raised them until they were grown, and then dressed the roosters, and sold them, and later the hen’s eggs, to dad for the store.

So, the next spring when I needed a project, I decided to raise fryers. I bought 50 roosters, and every week bought 50 more, until I had 800. Of course I had to build additional chicken houses and pens. When they got big enough, I would dress them and sell them to dad for his meat market, and for a couple of restaurants, $1 apiece. I would dress 10 at a time. I would put them in a wooden crate and take them a 1/2 block to the back of the store. Dad had a big iron pot that would hold about 15 gallons of water. He used it to make what turned out to be his famous chili. He never had enough. He would pour it into pans about 2 & 1’2” thick, put it in the cooler and when it was set up, cut it into bricks. People would smell it cooking and then come back later to get some. Bone can make it as well now. Anyway, I would get some water boiling in that big pot in the back room. When it was boiling, I would go cut off 10 heads, and start dipping and pulling feathers. When I had all the feathers off, I would start to clean them. After about the first 75, I could do 10 chickens in 30 minutes. That means I could kill, de-feather, de-gut and have a chicken ready for the market in 3 minutes. Anyway, by the fall they were all sold.

One spring in Carnegie we had a lot of rain. One night there was a super cloud burst, so much that it flooded one end of town. There was a little old lady, Sister Mock, who attended our church. She seemed like she was about 150 years old then, but from my per
.spective now, she was probably around 75 or 80. She lived down there in the flooded area in a little two room house, with her bed in the front room.

I went to see if she was alright, and when I got there, she was sitting on the bed in her nightgown, with her feet up, laughing. The water was up to the mattress. I picked her up and carried her out to the street and put her in a boat that took her a couple of blocks to high ground.

The back of the telephone exchange was at the back of our alley. On a telephone pole was the city fire siren, to summon volunteer fire fighters. The number of times it would sound indicated the part of town the fire was in. When there was a tornado alert, it would be continuous. One spring it sounded every day for over 2 months, usually at night. When it sounded, Mom would get up and grab Dean and Trudy and go across the street into the neighbors’ storm cellar. Many people had them. Dad would get up and go outside and look around, and usually go back to bed. I would get up, go out and check on my chickens, then see what dad did. Once it looked so bad that I went over and sat on the cellar.


Dale, High School graduation 1951

I joined the band. I think when I was a sophomore. It seemed that the band was always going on trips. I liked to travel, but never got to go. The folks would only go to Ada occasionally. So, I joined the band, so I could go on trips. I joined on a Friday. The director gave me a bass horn and a uniform. The next day I was on my way to a parade in Hydro, Okla. The director wanted me to play the bass because I was big enough to carry it, and he only had one other. He wanted to balance the band when it was marching, with one on each back corner. That first trip I could not even blow it. He told me to act like I was, and try to stay in step.

Since I didn’t like school, I took all the easy classes I could, like Agriculture, typing, shop, band etc. I made A’s in these classes, and D’s and C’s in all the others. I just studied enough to pass. The shop class opened the door to a present hobby- woodworking. My first year of shop class, I made a table lamp and an end table. Two of my kids have them now.

My senior year I made a cedar chest the first semester, and then decided a cedar bedroom suite would be nice to go with it. So the 2nd semester, I made a dresser, stool, a chest of drawers, and a bed with head and bottom boards. Of course to do so, I worked on it before school, during class, during study hall, lunch, and after school, and on some Saturdays. Anyway, it was finished and on display in the vestibule at my graduation, with an article and picture of it on the front page of the local paper. It is now in our guest bedroom, still in good shape.

I didn’t learn a lot in school, but I did like to read. I probably read every fiction book in the school library, and had read every Zane Grey western in print, plus many other books. I had a double column of $.25 paperback westerns from floor to ceiling in the basement. I got a lot of spankings from mom and dad for reading, because I would be reading when I was supposed to be doing something else, also for reading during church.

I still like to read. If I am not eating, sleeping, working, or visiting with other people, I am reading. I take a book with me everyplace I go. I like history, especially historical novels, like James Michener writes, and Zane Grey, plus biographies. But I read in about every subject. When I became a Christian, I read the Bible through in 4 months. I then decided I would read it once every year. I figured out that if you read 3 chapters a day and 5 on Sunday, you would read it though in a year. I am now finishing the 58th time. Betty and I read the Bible after breakfast every morning. Every church I pastured, at the beginning of the year, I would encourage the congregation to read it through. Many people did, and most would come and thank me for getting them started. One invalid lady in Wasilla started, and for several years read it 4 times every year. In Springfield one of my members, Jerry Oliver, started reading it. After the first year he started talking about it. He was on the General Board of the Church of the Nazarene, and chairman of the Sunday school Comm. The Sunday school promoted an American Bible Society offering from all the churches each year. A representative of the American Bible Society was in one of his meetings. Jerry was talking about reading 3 chapters a day and 5 on Sunday. The American Bible Society printed up a reading chart, with a place to mark off each day and the chapter for it, and promoted reading the Bible through each year using this system. They never did thank me for the idea. Three years ago I began writing down every book I read, and how many pages and what subject. It has averaged 147 books a year and 39,567 pages. Looking over the subjects, I see it covers about everything. Betty and I have a book storage problem.

Like almost every teen, I experimented with tobacco, beer, wine, and women. In my early teens we tried smoking grape- vine, which was hollow and you could draw smoke though it, but it would burn your tongue, so you didn’t do much of that at a time. Some kids had Bull Durham, (loose tobacco in a small sack with a little packet of cigarette papers with it). I never did get good at rolling my own. As I got older I smoked some pre-rolled cigarettes, like Camels or Lucky Strike, but was especially fond of cigars, in spite of the merry-go-round incident. I never developed a habit, and only smoked when I was away from the house.
Gene and I decided to try chewing tobacco, so we both picked up a plug of Black Mule or some brand, from our dad’s store and went to the park and merry-go-round one Saturday night. We bit off a big chew, and bit it a couple of times, and spit it out in a hurry. It was hotter than jalapeno peppers! It didn’t take any persuasion to throw it away, and I never tried it again.
I only drank one bottle of beer, and hated ever drop of it. I did not want to try it again. I probably drank a quarter pint of wine with my friends, just a sup ever now and then. Never did like it. When I got saved, I had no more desire to drink or smoke, and never did.
Mom would not let us kids drink coffee. She said it would stun our growth, (how else do you think I got to be 6’-3” & 1/2”? Early in high school I began going with some friends to a hole-in-the wall café, a counter with some stools, and buying coffee, .05 a cup. I tried it black, with cream, sugar, cream and sugar. Anyway I fixed it; it still had that terrible coffee taste. After 3 or 4 attempts, I gave up coffee for life and went back to a coke, which could be an orange soda, root beer, any flavor of Nehi or a RC. I still try coffee occasionally; it always did smell good, just tasted terrible.
It has not improved with age. Being a preacher and not drinking coffee is a real trial. I would often get it offered to me 5 times a day. I finally started saying “no thanks, but I will take the dime”. By the time I was a pastor, it had doubled in price.
I was very shy around girls. I did no public dating in high school. I did just a dab of social dancing at parties, was not impressed, did kiss a gal once, (didn’t think it was anything to e-mail home to mom about), who was out walking with 2 or 3 of us guys one night.
A real cute girl, Odean, who attended our church, became a sort of secret girl- friend, when I was a senior in high school. One night at church I got hold of her purse and started going through it. I found a note to another girl, stating she had a crush on me. So after church, I walked her home and managed a kiss on the way. That was much better, and I thought I might e-mail Mom about that one. But I didn’t have a computer, didn’t even know there was any, which there probably was not. That continued for a few months, and occasionally we would meet Saturday night, when her parents would come in shopping. I would sometimes pick cotton with her, since her dad was a farmer. After I got saved, and realized I was going to college, I broke it off with her. I could see it was getting serious, and I knew I could not marry and go to college also. In college I dated several girls one time, until in May I met Mable.
There were two movie theaters in our town. Our church was against attending any. They showed mostly cowboy shoot-em-ups. By the time I was a junior in high school and had plenty of my own money, I would sneak off and saw almost every movie that came to town. Each theater would have about 2 a week. I would tell the folks I was going to the ball- game go to the movie and then find out what the score was, and go home. I hit one almost every Sunday afternoon, also.
T
he Farm: Mom’s parents had a small farm near Ada, Okla. Mom lived there, at least since she was 2, maybe before. It was an important part of my childhood. We would go there often, and spend weeks there in the summer. It had a spring behind the house, where all the water for clothes washing etc. was secured. The washing water was heated in a big black kettle, set on an open fire outside. Homemade lye soap was used on the clothes. Just off the back porch was a well that was only 5” or 6” inches wide, had a long skinny bucket at least 3’ that could hold a bucket of water. It had a rope with a pulley. You let it down, let it fill up, and then pull it up- a job that had to be done many times a day. I did it more than I liked. There was no electricity until 1950, had a fireplace for heat, and a wood stove for cooking. Coal-oil lamps were the light. For a bathroom, there was a trail and a one- seater. About 50 yards away the barn and corral stood, for the 2 or 3 milk cows. Of course there was a chicken house and smoke house. Every fall, hogs were butchered and cured and hung in the smoke house. I still love home cured ham, and red-eye gravy, my mouth just drools at the thought of sausage made of home- cured pork, but I haven’t had any for over 50 years, and don’t have any idea where to get it. Down by the road, under a huge oak tree, was a sand croquet court. That was the center of life every Sunday afternoon. I still play a wicked game of croquet. There was a big hackamore tree behind the barn that was perfect for boys to climb in. And, most importantly, Bodarck creek ran through the farm, with a good swimming hole, lots of minnows, and a few catfish. We spent hours a day going up and down the creek. A neighbor had a stock pond that made a good back- up swimming hole. Of course we were not allowed to go swimming, so we had to do it when we had time for our hair to dry.

My grandmother, Mandy Belle Creech, Aunt Tina Lee Creech, (known as Sister) and Uncle Willie and his 2 boys- Bruce and Carol, lived there. Uncle Willie and his boys moved to Calif. about 1943. Uncle Bud, Aunt Jewel and their 7 kids lived a ¼ mile away, Aunt Lillie and Uncle Clifford and their 2 boys lived ½ mile away. Aunt Birdie and her son, Gerald Wayne, (Hurk), lived in a nearby town. They were always there when we were. Birdie was a school teacher. Hurk was one year and one day younger than me. We were best friends, and had many adventures together.

Before I became a teen, it seemed we spent all summer there. Since it was a farming community, and cotton was a major crop, school started in August and then let out for a month during cotton- picking time. My cousins would have to go to school, a 3 mile walk across a big pasture to Rocky Chapel School. It was a two- room school, with two teachers that taught 12 grades. I would attend with them, carrying a syrup bucket with lunch in it, probably left over biscuits from breakfast, with ham in it spread with mustard. One summer there was a hive of bumble bees under the school. We spent our recesses and lunch time fighting bumble bees. Everybody had a small board to use to hit them with. Of course we all got stung more than once. With that kind of activity, it was fun going to school. We also would ride in Uncle Bud’s wagon, pulled by a team of horses, to revivals there.

One Sunday afternoon in the early fall, we were at the farm, and all of the male cousins were down at the creek by the swimming hole. The water was too low to swim, and we were all busy smoking grape vine, or trying to roll a cigarette out of “Bull Durham”. Uncle Bud’s water melon patch was nearby, and there were some still in the field. He walked down to get one, heard us, and came over to the bank and caught us all smoking. I knew I was in for it, and would catch it on the way home. But he must have not told the folks, because they never did mention it. Some of my best memories come from the farm. It played an important part in my life through high school. I was there for a couple of weeks in Aug. 1950 and at the nearby (12 miles) Stonewall Church of the Nazarene where I was saved.

C
onversion: Mom and the 4 younger kids attended the Church of the Nazarene at Carnegie. Dad attended the Nazarene church in Okla. City. He taught my Junior Sunday School class. When we moved to Carnegie, he started attending the Southern Baptist, in which he had been raised. His family was strong Baptists. His older brother, Dewey, was a very successful Southern Baptist preacher in Amarillo, Tex. Doyle started to attend the Baptist because of Ina Lou, his girl. She later became his wife. The rest of us could choose where we went, as long as we went. The whole family was very faithful, both dad and mom, and me, because they forced me to go. We never missed a service- twice on Sunday, Wed. nights, and revival services that were 15 days long, at least twice a year. We even went when we occasionally would go to the farm. We would get there early enough to go to Church.

I first became aware of God and sin, and God’s claim on my life, when I was eleven, shortly before we moved to Carnegie. I probably was under conviction for sin in almost every church service, especially Sunday nights and during revivals. But I never made a move to confess my sins and repent. I guess I was pretty stubborn, and rebellious. I had more than enough pride for any teen- ager, and was considerably independent. There were a bunch of real spiritual old ladies in the church: Sister Nance, Lunsford, Cry, and Mock. They let me know they were praying for me to get saved. It was also a custom then during the altar call, (that often lasted as long as the sermon), for people to go talk to people who needed to be saved (those who needed to repent and confess their sins), and invite them to go to the altar and pray. In fact they often would plead, and try to convince the person to go. And often people did. Well, usually someone would come to me during almost every altar call. Being who I was, I resented them doing it, and would not go, even though I really wanted to become a Christian.

During the altar calls, they would sing about 100 verses of “Just As I Am”, and about 50 of “Almost Persuaded”, and at least 30 of “Softly and Tenderly, Jesus is calling”. I would hold onto the seat in front of me, because sometimes they would try to pull you to the altar. Though I was under great conviction, and really wanted to be saved, I would not budge. My pride told me that if I went to the altar and got saved, the old women would think I did it because they were praying for me. Or they would think I went because people invited me to the altar. I would not go, because I wanted to get full credit for doing it on my own, and not let them think they influenced me.

So for 6 years I led a miserable existence, being under conviction and not having any of the peace and joy of knowing my sins were forgiven. This did not make me the most congenial person to live with. I didn’t want to go to school, or church, or work in the store. I suppose mom and dad really thought they blew it when they had this rebellious kid. I probably gave my parents more grief than the other four kids put together.
Of course nobody knew why I wouldn’t get saved, but I finally did on Aug. 10, 1950, on a Thursday night in Stonewall Okla. It happened because mom tricked me, without my realizing it. It happened like this. In June, a popular evangelist, J.C. Higgins, held a revival in our church in Carnegie. I was made to attend every service as usual. I was under terrible conviction, but successfully resisted going forward. Mom found out that Rev. Higgins, the evangelist, was going to hold a revival in August at Stonewall, Okla., where her relatives all went to church. Dad had leased grandma’s farm and was playing farmer. I had begged him all summer to let me go down to the farm and work. Because he needed me to work in the store, he would not let me. But when it was time for the revival to start there in August, without me knowing it, mom made Dad let me go. So I hitchhiked the 150 miles and got there on Monday. And to my dismay, with a cousin, Milton, and Uncle Clifford, and aunt Lilly, and Aunt Sister, I ended up in church that night at the revival. My cousin Hurk, who was a best friend, lived in a different town, but he and Aunt Birdie were there. I had not seen him for several months, and noticed that when they prayed, he bowed his head. I knew something had happened. He had been saved at youth camp a couple of weeks before. As usual, I was under great conviction that night. The next day was pretty miserable, as I worked on a fence, and back to the revival again Tuesday night. Again, strong conviction, and a desire to get saved, but I was too stubborn to give in.

Wednesday I was even more miserable, because I realized that now I didn’t have an excuse for not getting saved. No one was praying for me, and being a stranger, no one was coming and asking me to go to the altar and get saved. My downfall was that I was intellectually honest with myself, and I knew I had to come up with another excuse, or go to the altar. Hurk and I had a deal. If one of us said we would do something, we would do it, no matter what. Well, by church time Wed. night, I had not come up with another excuse that I could live with. So after church, I told Hurk that tomorrow night I was going to the altar, and for him to hold me to it. The next day was probably the most miserable day of my life, realizing that I had to go to the altar that night, unless I could find a legitimate excuse not to go, like a broken leg or something. I couldn’t figure out how to get a broken leg, so I ended up in church, on the back seat as usual. I have no idea what Rev. Higgins preached on, but I know that I was smitten with conviction. As soon as they started the first verse of “Just as I am”, Hurk turned to me and said “Are you ready?” I didn’t answer him. I just stepped out and made that long walk to the altar. I knelt on the right hand side and started telling God I was sorry for being such a lousy sinner, and repenting of my sins. After a while Pastor Powell came and asked me what I wanted God to do for me, and I said I wanted to be saved. He asked If I had confessed and repented of my sins, and I said “Yes”. He then quoted to me I John 1:9, “If we confess our sins, Jesus is faithful and just to forgive our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” He asked me if I believed that verse and was I sincere in repenting. When I said “Yes”, he said “Well you are saved.” So I stood up and went back to my seat, and sure enough, I was.

I don’t remember any emotion with the experience. But I do remember that the next day when I awoke, my life had changed dramatically. I could not believe the joy and peace that I had. It seemed like I was floating about five feet off the ground. I was so happy. My mind and voice was singing “Victory in Jesus”, all three verses, over and over again. It was the greatest thing that ever happened to me. I can’t explain it, but I know God transformed my life in such a way that I have never been the same. I hated going to church before. Now I could hardly wait to go. I never had read any of the Bible. Now I wanted to read it all the time. In fact, I read it though in four months. Being saved changed my attitude, and my haughty, rebellious style of living changed. I don’t think my parents could believe the difference in me. St. Paul certainly had it right when he wrote, “if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation: the old has gone, the new has come.” II Cor. 5:17

I didn’t know this kind of happiness existed. I have said a lot of times, that I had more happiness in one week, than I had in the previous 17 years, 9 months, and 22 days. I could not believe the transformation that took place in me. I suppose that I was such a rascal, rebellious, difficult youth, because I was so miserable. Life now was really fun, and worth living. It has continued to be now, over 58 years. I have never regretted that long trip down the aisle to the altar in that little Nazarene church.

A few years ago Bone and I went back to Stonewall. The church had been closed, and the building was no longer there. I don’t know how long the church existed, but I sure am glad it was there in August 1950. If no one else every got saved there, its existence was worth everything to me. I feel that in giving me the place to get saved, eternity will be affected. For by my salvation, many more have been influenced to be saved, including my family, my ministry and the hundreds of people I have influenced for the Lord.

I often wondered how God could change my life so drastically for the good. I know there are people who say it was just a psychological reaction, but you can never convince me that a mere psychological effect could last 58 years and make the change in my life, as that of my experience with God. Of course then, I did not know the meaning of words, like “justification, redemption, and adoption.” But now knowing what they mean, I can understand the tremendous miracle God wrought in my life.

My cup was running over with joy. The revival closed that Sunday, and I remember how disappointed I was. I had to wait three whole days before I could go to church again on Wednesday. The following Sunday, in the evening service, a ministerial student from Pasadena College preached on sanctification. I had heard it all my life, but it didn’t mean anything to me till then. If God had something more for me, I wanted it now. So when the invitation was given, I was the first one at the altar asking God to sanctify me.

I prayed as instructed and accepted by faith on God’s word, that the job was done. In a few days there was no question that God had removed inbred sin from my life. I had been a very anger-prone person, flying into livid anger for very little reason. When I realized that God had taken care of the anger problem, my happiness and joy increased exceedingly. After I was home a few days, Mom, Bone and I were in the kitchen doing the dishes. Bone did something that irritated Mom, and she swung around from the sink and slapped me hard on the face, thinking I had done it. Before my conversion, I would have flown into a fit of anger that the neighbors would have heard. But this time, there was no anger, only bewilderment. Instead, I realized that sanctification did work, and God had done another work of transformation on me.

I hitch-hiked home on Monday, on Wednesday, when I went to prayer meeting, the Pastor, M.J. Kirsten, met me at the door. He had heard of my being saved. He said they did not have a song leader that night, and asked if I would lead the singing. I did. He then said that they were having annual meeting, and he asked if I wanted to join the church so I could vote. I did. I sat in my usual place on the back seat, but it didn’t feel right. So the next service I moved up to the front row, where I still try to sit.

Well, getting religion was no passing fancy with me. It changed me in about every way possible. School started soon after I got back home, and I quit goofing off. I figured to be the best Christian I could be, I needed the best education I could get, so I started studying. Remember, I hated school, and my one ambition was to get out of high school and never go to a classroom again. But, after I got saved, even before God called me to preach, I decided to go to college, so I could be a better Christian, with a college education.

In every way my life changed: family relations, church, school, friends, etc. Now that my life was centered on Christ, the most noticeable thing had to do with church. I was so happy about all the peace and joy of being a Christian; I began talking about it to everybody. Within a few weeks about 15 teens had either become saved, or renewed their relationship with Christ. When school started, we began having noon prayer meetings at church, praying for other teens.

Since I always loved to read, I was now reading the Bible. I got a pocket- size Bible, and carried it with me everywhere. And anytime I had a minute, I was reading it. I began to witness to my friends. In the school wood-working shop, there was a dark room for photography. I would take a guy in there, shut the door, and quote the scripture about sinners being cast into outer darkness at the judgment. Some got saved, and started attending church.

From the first day of my conversion I was amazed at how personal my relationship with Christ was. It was like He had become the best personal friend I had ever had. His presence was with me continually, and I sensed His presence in my life in so many ways. I had never experienced anything like this before- did not image that such peace could exist. This was a relationship with an invisible God, but was more real than with people you did see. I have never gotten over the wonder of it.

In August of 1997, 47 years later, I had the most vivid dream I have ever had. Now eleven years later, it is still vivid in my memory. It helps explain the closeness one can have with Christ. In my dream, I was at a convention in a large city, like London, because there were those big open- top double-deck red buses. I was sitting near the back, on the open top deck, on the right side. We were stalled in a traffic jam. Another bus was slightly behind in the inside lane. The front of it was about even with where I sat.

Suddenly in all the traffic noise, horns blowing, motors running etc., a woman sitting about the middle of the other bus on the far side, began to sing. Her voice was as clear and beautiful as Betty’s voice, and I could hear her clearly, as if her voice had drowned out all other sounds. I looked at her in amazement. She was bigger than Betty, with an equal voice, but definitely was not Betty. I cannot remember anybody that she reminds me of. She began to sing.

“I would love to tell you what I think of Jesus
Since I found in Him a friend so strong and true
I would tell you how He changed my life completely;
He did something that no other friend could do.

Chorus, No one every cared for me like Jesus
There’s no other friend as kind as He.
No one else could take the sin and darkness from me;
O how much He cared for me;

All my life was full of sin when Jesus found me;
All my heart was full of misery and woe.
Jesus placed His strong and loving arms around me.
And he led me in the way I ought to go.

Every day He comes to me with new assurance;
More and more I understand His words of love.
But I’ll never know just why He came to save me,
Till someday I see His blessed face above.

The beauty of the words about Christ was so appropriate with what I felt. In my dream I was overcome with emotion, and started weeping for joy that this Jesus was my friend.

I could only remember the first few words of her song after I awakened, but kept wondering how such beautiful poetry got in my dreams. I knew for them to come, I had to have heard them before. Finally two weeks later I woke up in the middle of the night, and all of the words came back to me. I then recognized them as a hymn that the church used to sing when I was a teen. It is still in our hymn book, “No One Ever Cared for Me like Jesus”.

The smartest thing I ever did was to start tithing. Having never missed a church service in my life that I can remember, I guess a lot of Bible and doctrine got into my brain, in spite of all the time I spent reading westerns, and writing notes and goofing off in church. So, I started writing a check each week for 10% of my income. I was very careful about figuring it, and am still doing it now 58 years later. I believe the quality of life I now enjoy, is largely a fulfillment of God’s promises about tithing.

I remember the first revival we had after I got saved. Then, revivals were financed by a system that I always hated, and never used it a single time as a pastor. Revivals would start on a Sunday morning and go 15 full days, including Saturday nights, and close the second Sunday night. On the last Sunday morning, the preacher would get up after the singing, and before the offering, and start taking pledges, sort of like an auction. “Who will give $50?” and so on, lowering the amount occasionally until the desired amount was raised. The reason I hated it was, it took so much time, probably 30 minutes, which meant that it was that much longer getting to the message. On this Sunday, as the preacher was doing this, I was sitting there on the front seat wishing he would hurry up, so we could get on to the good stuff. Of course before then, I had never given a penny for a revival, and had not even thought of giving anything then. I realized that he was down to $15. All of a sudden, I realized I could give $15, so up popped my hand. As I wrote out a check, I never felt so good in by life about spending money.

Well, that was just half of it. On Sunday night, when the evangelist got up to preach, he would do the same thing for the pastor, saying his salary was too small (and it was), and we need to give him a good love offering. So, the same thing would happen all over again. I was enduring that, when I realized he was down to $15. Again I realized that I could give $15, so up pops my hand and I write out another check. Again, God’s sense of approval, and a tremendous sense of right and peace came over me, as I realized that giving was a great blessing! I learned that it was lot more fun to give than to receive. I decided during those next weeks of blessings, that I wanted to make as much money as I could, so I could give as much money as I could.

Looking at my life from the perspective of 76 years, I believe I could have made a lot of money, (it appears that I have some management and leadership ability), but God decided he wanted me to be a preacher. So I gave from a preacher’s salary. I judge I have given God 20% of my salary down through the years, and am still doing it. I only wished I could have given more.

C
all to Preach: In my junior year of High School they gave a lot of vocational tests to help you decide what you were going to do, or if you were going to college. I already knew that I wasn’t going to college, and the only thing I decided was, that I preferred outside work. The only clear thought I had was, that I was not going to be a preacher. I guess this was an issue, because my brother Don was in college studying for the ministry. And I had an Uncle, dad’s brother, Dewey, who was a very successful Southern Baptist preacher. Being a preacher was the last thing I would consider. After I was saved my attitude changed some, but I still did not want to be a preacher. I was shy, and a loner. I had to take a speech class, and making a speech to the class was one of the hardest things I ever did.

I was saved in August, and by November I began to feel that maybe God did want me to be a preacher. To myself I laughed at the idea, thinking there was no way God would ever want me to preach. I did not want to, but because of sanctification, being totally yielding to God’s will, I was at this point willing to do it. I just could not believe God would want me to.

Finally, sometime in December, I talked with my pastor, Myron J. Kerstin, about it. He told me to forget about it, that If God wanted me to, He would let me know. But he did say that he would not be surprised if God did call me, so I resolved to forget about it. The only problem was I could not. It was almost a constant awareness. New Years’ Eve was on Sunday in 1950, and the pastor planned a service that night from 8 P.M. to midnight. (Back then Sunday evening services did not start till 8 p.m., so the farmers could get their chores done.) The service was to include a lot of singing and four sermons, and he asked me to do one of the sermons!

He gave me a simple outline from I Tim 6, with the words, “Flee, Follow, and Fight.” So I talked about 12 minutes about fleeing sin, following Christ, and fighting for righteousness. My knees were shaking the whole time. It was one of the hardest things I ever did. After that experience, I was sure God did not want me for a preacher, but I could not get away from the constant awareness that I should. By this time I was willing to, if only I knew for sure that was what God wanted. I had not said anything to anybody about it, but to the pastor, in December.

Finally, in February 1951, on a Wednesday night, at the close of prayer meeting, the congregation was at the altar for the closing prayer. I was on the right end, kneeling next to Rev. Smith (a retired pastor). It was during the closing prayer, with the ever- increasing awareness of God’s call on me, that I said to God, “If you want me to preach, then I will preach”.
Immediately, my soul was flooded with a super load of peace and a super sense that indeed, God wanted me to. I have never before, or since, had such an overwhelming sense of God’s presence. I no longer had any doubt about God’s wisdom in calling me. I was positive that was what he had done. As the prayer meeting ended and we stood up, I turned to Bro. Smith and said, “God has called me to preach”. It was so real, that Satan has never once in 58 years tried to tempt me to doubt my calling.

In late September 1956, five and one half years after I was called to preach, I was ordained by Dr. Hardy C. Powers at Duncan, Oklahoma, on the Southwest Oklahoma District of the Church of the Nazarene. Mom came for my ordination. I had completed two years of a part-time pastorate at a small home mission church on N.W. Tenth St, north of the Canadian River toward Yukon. This served as pastoral experience for ordination. My two degrees took care of the course of study for ordination, except for the “Nazarene Manual”. I did that course by home study the summer of ‘56.

After eight years of college and graduate school, forty two years of full- time pastorates, and eight years of retirement preaching, I can only say, “Thank you God for calling me to preach.” Now, I cannot imagine doing anything else. It has been a great experience! I would like to do it again.

E
ducation: I had already decided to go to college before being called to preach, but now that I knew what I was going to preach, I began to look forward to it. There was no question where I would go. Our denomination’s regional college, Bethany Peniel College, was located two hours away in Bethany, Oklahoma, a suburb of Oklahoma City. Peniel was a town near Dallas where it had previously been located. The year I graduated, 1955, was the last class for Bethany Peniel College. Its name was changed to Bethany Nazarene College. Later it was changed to Southern Nazarene University.

My dad’s store was not doing well financially. Dad had made the mistake of giving too much credit to too many Indians. So I was on my own, financially. Because of a heart attack he sold it a couple of years later. One time in my freshman year, mom came by the school, stopped by the business office, and put $50 on my account. Other than that, God helped me get my education. I had saved $125 by the time for school to start. (Four years later when I graduated, I had $125!).

Since I had one years’ experience driving a school bus in high school, dad let me take his car, a’ 48 Chevy, and go apply for a bus-driving job. I did this in July. Bethany schools didn’t run busses, but Putnam City a couple miles away did. I went there and met the school superintendent, D.D. Kirkland. He was a very astute, aloof man. The school owned 3 buses and leased another 12, so there were only 3 jobs possible. It seemed like I made an impression with him, but still he said, “Sorry”. He had just hired his last driver. Back home I continued farm work, driving a tractor etc. for $.75 an hour.

The week before school started I got a letter from D.D. saying that if I wanted that job, to call him and be on hand in a week’s time. I did, and was soon driving the school bus for Putman city. It was a perfect part-time job for a college student. It paid well also. I was actually only driving two hours a day, but was making $10.00 a day. The only other jobs available were paying $.75 or $.85 an hour.

Later D.D. told me he didn’t understand why he did it, but he had fired the guy he had hired, in order to give me the job. I understood it perfectly. God, who had called me to preach, was making it possible for me to get an education. The guy he fired was also a college student at Bethany, and a ministerial student. We became good friends. God was looking out for him also. He was married and had a child, and needed more money than the bus job would pay, God got him the kind of job he needed, and we were both happy.

After two and half years on the job, D.D, called me to the office. He said that the board had decided to sell their 3 busses and lease all of them. He suggested I bid on it and he would let me pay it off. I asked him what he thought I should bid, and he said $400. I did, and they accepted it, and in 4 months it was paid for. Now I was making over $15 per day, after insurance and gas.

The bus I bought was a 1942 Fargo, (a Canadian Dodge) made during the war, and was in Oklahoma, because no trucks were being made then because of the war. My brother Doyle started calling me Fargo. That’s where I got the nick-name. However, he was about the only one to use it.

I drove that bus for 5 years and then sold it to a church for $100. In 1952 Hurk came to college, and I recommended him, so he had a job driving a bus. In 1953 Bone came to college and dad bought a new bus. Bone drove it through college, and then Dad drove it a few years.

I was in college, and Seminary, I, of course, worked during the summer. The first summer I must have gone back home and worked in the store and farm work, can’t remember for sure. The 2nd and 3rd summers, I worked for a construction company, laying sewer pipe. It started out as shovel and jack hammer work, very hot, boring and hot. But after a week or 2, the boss found out I had a chauffeurs’ license, so he put me driving a small truck, and working with the mason that laid up manholes. This was a lot easier and not so boring. I even got a raise from $1.00 per hour to $1.25. Some of the manholes where 20’ deep. At least I learned something about laying brick.
The next summer I did the same thing, but instead of laying 18” sewer pipe, we were laying 6’ storm drain pipe. Since I got 2 degrees, I had 5 summers. The 4th and 5th, I drove a truck for Culligan Soft Water co., taking tanks to homes and business, on a 2 wheel cart. I would take a tank to the basement or utility room, unhook the old one, and install the new one. And when I got back to the shop with all the old ones, I would hook them up to a contraption so they could get recharged overnight, ready to start again the next morning. I would change them every 2 weeks or every month, depending how much the customer used.
Since I was skinny the boss sometimes took me to help him hook up a new customer, because I I could get under some houses that he could not. So I learned a bit about plumbing. While in Seminary, I worked at the mission during the summer.
When dad bought the GMC chassis, it was made in Pontiac Michigan. So Mom, Dad, Bone, T. Deloris and I went up there. We visited in Canada, Niagara Falls etc. Then Bone and I drove two chassis’s (one for a friend,) with no windshields, boxes for a seat, bolted on the frame, to Conway Arkansas, to get the body put on.
When I left Bethany to go to K.C. to go to Seminary, I went up early to apply for a bus driving job. The same thing happened. I got there just after he hired his last driver. Again, a week before school started, I received a call to show up if I wanted the job. I did. Again the same explanation, without knowing why, he fired the last guy hired, and hired me. Again, the guy fired was a ministerial student, became my friend, and got a job that suited him better. It’s amazing how God has to finagle to help us out.

There was a recreation room in the basement of the seminary. It had 3 ping pong tables, and was a good place to relax. We really had some hot games there. Dr Girder, a theology professor, played a lot and was hard to beat. I honed my Ping Pong skills there, and still really love to play.

In May 1955 I received the Bachelor of Arts degree from Bethany Peniel College. In May 1956, I received the Bachelor of Theology degree from Bethany Nazarene College. I had found out that I could get this degree from Bethany and transfer it to Nazarene Theological Seminary for full credit toward the “Master of Divinity” degree. Because of my bus driving job, it seemed a good thing to do. In May 1958, I received the Bachelor of Divinity degree (later changed to Master of Divinity), from Nazarene Theological Seminary. In May 1980, I received the “Master of Church Management” degree from Olivet Nazarene University. I worked on this for 3 years while pastoring in Springfield, Illinois.

After being saved, starting with my senior high school year, I began to apply myself in studying. I would sit on the front seat in class, unless there were assigned seats. I faithfully did all my home work, and did my best to make good grades. But not having learned
academically in high school, because of my dislike of school and
Don, Doyle, Dean, Dale Hurk general goof-offs, and simply not caring, I had a hard time making decent grades. But I slowly began to catch up. By the second semester of my junior year in college, I was making As and Bs. If I applied for college now, with my high school transcript as low as it was, (just barely the minimum requirement to graduate), they would not have accepted me as a student in college.

When I began my senior year of college, the Dean called me in and told me I would not be able to graduate, because of my low grade points. He assumed I had just been goofing off all of the time. I tried to explain to him that I had not, and that I was fast catching up. But he insisted I would have to change my class schedule and get a certificate instead of a degree. I talked to my counselor, Dr. Fred Floyd, and convinced him that I could do it.

Finally we convinced the Dean to let me try it. If after the first grade period I did not have a B+ average, I would go for the certificate. Of course I made it. Of all the highlights in my life, of all of the “I told you so’s” I have uttered, telling the Dean “so” for the next four semesters, when my name appeared on the Dean’s list for academic achievement, was the best. My grades stayed good the rest of my schooling, and was 4 point on my last Master’s degree. In addition to these degrees, I have attended, it seems, hundreds of seminars, etc. in the ministerial field of study.

I had to take a foreign language to graduate. I should have taken Greek, for Bible study. But it was always scheduled the first class in the morning, when I was driving the bus. So I enrolled in Spanish. Not having learned English, any language was very difficult. I could not get a text book till 3 weeks into the class, and in spite of trying hard, I flunked Spanish.

The next year I enrolled in German. I had to have two years of it. It was a good thing Miss Hunkle was patient, or I would never have graduated. She gave me a C, not because I learned anything, but because I tried. I spent more time studying for that class, and learned less, than any class I ever took.

In a class on the Pentateuch, the Prof. said that in lieu of a term paper, we could make a model of the “Tabernacle in the Wilderness”. Since I had 4 or 5 other term papers to do I decided to do it. I would have been much better off to have written the paper. I spent over 100 hours researching and working on it. It turned out good enough to earn me an A+ in the class. I ended up taking it to churches and places, preaching about it. I have used it in all of my churches, preaching a number of sermons about it. Of course I still have it.

For my theses’ for my Master’s degree in “Church Management”, I decided to do a study on the “Unassigned Elder” in the Church of the Nazarene. An ordained minister is referred to as an elder. I became an “elder” in Sept. 1956 when I was 23 years old. An elder who is not a pastor or working in some ministry capacity, is considered to be “Unassigned”. At this point I am referred to by the church as being “retired assigned”. If I had not retired from the pastorate, I would be “retired unassigned”. Over the years I had observed several unassigned elders in churches, and was alarmed and amazed that most of the time they were inactive in the church, even though they were faithful in attendance.
In addition to this in my church in Springfield, I had an “unassigned elder”, who had a Doctor of Psychology degree, had been vice president of a University, and was a good preacher. All he did in the church was attend and pay his tithe. I discovered in my study that a major reason unassigned elders were inactive, was because pastors considered them a threat to their ministry, or was afraid of them. That was not the case with me, I soon got this PHD teaching a Sunday school class, and preaching occasionally. And eventually, because of this, was responsible for getting him back into the pastorate.
I discovered that in the U S there were 1,141 “unassigned elders” in the churches, and most of them were doing nothing. I got the General Church to help me pay the postage to send out a questioner to all the unassigned elders. And from those results, I concluded my study. And hopefully helped pastors to be able to use them in building the kingdom. If you want to read a summary of it you can look it up on the internet. Type in “L. Dale Horton”, use quotations marks, click on “Pastors in the Church of the Nazarene” go to page 15.

M
usic: I took “hymn-directing” and made A’s on all the tests, and went through the final test without a flaw, which was directing a hymn. So, I knew I had an “A” for the class. When I got my report card there was a “D” on it. When I talked to Prof. Dunn, he said all class long he knew there was someone in the class that could not stay on tune, but he did not know who, until the final test. I talked to my counselor, the Dean, the President, and the Prof., telling them it was a directing class, not a singing class. But there is still a “D” on my transcript for that class. I still can’t sing on tune.

I am a pure-bred Oakie, and by rights I should be a country music fan. I love music, but not country. Somehow I came to love classical, symphonic, opera-type music. As a teen, when I could, I would lie on the floor of our living room, and listen to our cabinet radio, the “New York Metropolitan Opera Hour”. It was on at 3:00 pm every Saturday afternoon. I especially loved violin music. So when I was a sophomore in college, I went to a music store and paid $50 for a used violin. I got a book, and taught myself the notes, and learned to play it, sort of. The problem was I could not tune it. I could tell when you hit a wrong note, but not whether it was flat or sharp. When I was in Oakdale, I even went to the Junior college and took lessons. But my bad musical ear finally persuaded me I could never play it well. While in college I had, (guess I still do), lots of violin music on “78 RPM” records, along with symphonies and operas. My iPod that I got at the 50th anniversary, has mainly violin music on it.

Once when the Freeds visited us in Alaska, (Meg was 6 or 7), I gave her my violin, if she would learn to play it. She did, and became the concert mistress for the PLNU Symphony. And now she plays for the Bakersfield symphony. She inspired Arch, Sweet Pea, Caboose and maybe Nubbin, Ava and Kate, to take up the violin. I can’t believe I have 7 grandkids playing the violin, but I sure like it! Curley is really good on the flute, and Sparks plays the clarinet. Come to think of it, Beth played the clarinet, Cindy the flute, and Paul the coronet. Jan specialized in singing. I even had about 3 or 4 years of piano lessons, but they never took. Betty knows a little about piano and singing, having a degree in music from the U of Ariz.

M
able: In the spring of ‘52 I met a girl who lived in Oklahoma City. She was a senior in high school. She was active in Trinity Nazarene Church, on SW 29th St. I had bought a ‘48 Ford the spring before, so I had transportation. Things progressed, and we decided to get married, 12-20-52. We got along well, I thought, as I continued school and work. She took some cosmetology classes and was working as a beautician.

In February of ’56, I came home one day to find a “Dear John” note and an empty house. I was stunned, surprised, and miserable. I did all I could to get her back. I soon found out there was another guy, one I thought was my friend.

She divorced me, and the day it was final, married this guy. I never saw or heard from her again. Because there were 3 different men that surfaced after we were separated, and one confessed to adultery with her, and the third was seen in the act, I was able to be ordained without any problem. The divorce was one of the better things that happened to me, because Betty entered my life. I guess it is obvious that we did not have children.

one happy consequence of this tragedy occurred 25 years later. I was really upset over the separation and divorce when it happened. I often said it would have been easier to have a funeral than a divorce, as far as the pain etc. After it was over, I decided that I had to forgive her for my own spiritual health, so I did. Mable’s middle name was Jean, her mother called her Mable Jean, and I occasionally referred to her as M. J .To many people, she was Mable Jean.
When I moved to Springfield, there was a lady named Mable. She was about 85 when we moved there. She was a widow, but was very faithful in church. In fact, I cannot remember her missing a single service in the 7 years I was there. She became a good friend to us, and was often at our house for a meal, especially Thanksgiving or Christmas, if we were home. She would call 2 or 3 times a week just to talk, and tell me who was sick and who was not at church Sunday.
Many times on Sunday, as she was going out, she would place a greenback in my palm as she shook hands and whisper, “Take Betty out for a meal”. About once a month she would take us to a smorgasbord for dinner, she would always take more than she could eat, and she always insisted on sitting next to me. During the meal she would take a chicken leg off her plate and put it on mine as well as other items. I got to where I knew not to take too much meat, because she would give it to me. I helped her with some legal work and with her finances often. And she was very supportive to us and looked after us.
We have two pictures hanging in our house now that she gave us. After we moved to Eureka she died, and we found out she had put us in her will for a $1.000. We invested it, and still have it.
The point is, I saw and had more contact with Mable than any other person in the church. Her last name was Jeans. After I had been there a full 5 years, something happened and I suddenly realized the similarity of the names- Mable Jean and Mable Jeans. I had often preached on forgiveness, and often heard the cliché, “forgive and forget”, but I never preached that, because I doubted a person could really forget.
When I realized that I had been with or talked to Mable Jeans 5 or 6 times a week for 5 years and never made the connection of her name Mable Jeans being so close to Mable Jean, I was filled with such blessing I can’t describe it. The reality that I had forgiven Mable Jean 25 years before and actually forgot the pain she caused me was a blessing I am still enjoying. I had found out that you can “forgive and forget”, and I started preaching it, and still do today.
B
etty Conn: In Aug, 1956, I moved to Kansas City, Missouri, to attend “Nazarene Theological Seminary”. I started driving a bus at Raytown, near K.C. I joined a carpool of four seminary guys. Each of us took turns driving to Raytown. Bob Conn was one of them. It was a fifteen minute drive, so that we were together one hour a day, going and coming twice. It gave us a lot of time to talk. Bob had a sister, a school teacher that he had talked into teaching in K.C. So he did a lot of talking about her, trying to set me up for a date. (I was the only single guy in the car- pool, and only one of six in seminary). According to him, she was the best singer and piano player in the world. (He was wrong, she was not the best, but nearly so.)


Finally in October, after I was ordained, I gave her a call, and we set up a blind date for a concert at the Seminary. The concert was the final event of a music seminar. It turned out that we both attended the seminar, so we met before our date. She lived and taught school in Kansas City, Kansas, and I lived in K.C. Mo., about thirty minutes apart. She likes to tell that on our first date, she sewed a button on my jacket, and that I had to park the car (a 51 Studebaker, President) on a hill, in order to get it started, because of a bad battery

I first kissed her five dates later, on a bluff overlooking the Mo. River and the K.C. airport. After our first date, neither of us dated anyone else. At Christmas time, we announced our engagement, when on her way back from Tucson she stopped by Bethany, and met my folks.

I was working in the K.C. Rescue Mission on 12th St. as Co-Superintendent, and was required to be there six nights a week. So, most of our dates started out at the mission, with her playing the piano and singing, and then we’d go out for talking, and smooching.

Of course we were together all day Sunday. I would pick her up for S.S. and church, then we would eat and spend the afternoon in parks or the zoo, or some point of interest in the K.C. area, then back to the
Betty, Fall 1955

Mission and home. Sunday mornings we would attend a different Nazarene Church, and I would make a brief presentation about the Mission, seeking money, volunteers, and used clothes.

We were married Friday night, June 7, 8 P.M. 1957, in Tucson First Church, with a reception in someone’s back yard nearby. Bone was my best man, and Carolyn, Betty’s sister, was maid of honor, Trudy was a candlelighter. Pastor J.E. Moore and Bob, Betty’s brother, performed the ceremony. And that is how Betty became an ex-Conn.

C. E Conn, Betty’s dad, had a used car lot. He loaned us a Cadillac for the night. We got rid of the chivaree crowd, by Bone following us and stopping in a one- lane tunnel under the railroad track, blocking the traffic so we could escape. We hid my Studebaker in a used car lot near C. E’s lot. After going to a restaurant with Bone and Carolyn we went back to pick up our car. And by luck the chivaree guys were still looking for us, and just happened by. I could not outrun or ditch them, because the 2nd gear in my transmission was out.

Left, Betty, Oak Creek Canyon, our honeymoon

So we just headed toward Phoenix. After we got out to the edge of town, we saw them pull over and park, to see if we would return. We went on about half a mile and turned off on the first road. We crossed the tracks and found another road headed
Back to town. We were in our motel in about ten minutes. Later I found out they waited for us about an hour.

We went to the Grand Canyon for our honeymoon, arriving there Saturday afternoon. The next dawn we were at the Canyon at sunrise. But during the night someone had filled it in with clouds from edge to edge. On Monday we rode mules to the bottom down the Kaibab trail.

We spent two days in Oak Creek Canyon, south of Flagstaff, near Sedona, a really great place, then back to Phoenix, and on to the Apache trail east of Mesa. This is about a 50 mile dirt road in the desert, following the Salt River up to Roosevelt Lake. There were 4 other smaller lakes along the way. It was a very hot June day, (over 100’) and before car air-conditioners. At the first lake, we put on bathing suits and took a dip, and every chance we got, we would jump into one of the lakes. In between the lakes, we threw water on each other to stay cool.

Left, Betty and Dale, June 7 1957

In July we were back in K.C. to work at the Rescue Mission, and Betty teaching. We also lived at the mission in an apartment on the 3rd floor, to finish my senior year of Seminary.

Since I am talking about Betty, I guess I had better enclose this recent insight. It is a letter I wrote to my 4 Kids,

Dear Beth or Bill, Cindy, Cid or MD2, Paul or Gon, Jan or J Four or J Babe. Mothers Day 2007

Here is some info. about your mother that you do not know, and something I recently found out. A couple of months ago, I was setting in the fellowship hall for some reason, and being bored, because I didn’t have a book. So I was looking at the pastors pictures on the wall. Since I am writing a paper about “Church Growth” I got to thinking which pastors had success in growth. Knowing the history of the church, I realized that for 73 years, and 16 pastors, the church had no significant growth except for the 12 years when I was the pastor.

In 1934 Rev. Bachelor raised the average yearly attendance to around 200. (Church growth is figure on average yearly attendance). It was one of the largest churches on the Northern Ca. dist. That was everything from Bakersfield north. In 1962 the dist. was divided into 3 districts. Rev Bachelor moved in 1934, and the church began a slow decrease until I came in 1968, when the attendance was 135. When I left in 1977 it was 296. It then started another slow decline until I returned in 1997. It then started back up, and when I retired 3 ½ years later, Nov. 2000, it was up to 186. After I retired, it begin to decline and

this last year it was 130. (I just got the 08-09 statistics, looks like it has started back up) wanting to find some good stuff for my paper, I began to try to figure out why only one pastor out of 16 caused the church to grow. (The conclusion of my paper is that the pastor is the key to church growth). I know those other 15 pastors, and they were all good guys, and the church should have grown. But try as I might, I could not come up with anything, except my good looks and winning personality. Betty and I were discussing this with some close friends and suddenly Betty said, “I know the reason why”. With abated breath, we all waited for this inspiring revelation. She said it simply, “The other 15 pastors were not married to me.” After some reflection on that, I decided she was right. Then I started thinking about the other churches in which we pastored. In Nocona TX., the attendance was 40 when we went there, and 3 years later, when we left it was 73. I don’t believe it has ever been any higher than that. In Phoenix Az. we started Paradise Valley with 10 people, and in 5 years it was 125. It then began a slow decline, until about 15 years later it was merged with another church and the building sold. Later, it burned down. Now there is a freeway were the church stood.

Oakdale: Already mentioned.

Springfield Ill. It had a reputation of being hard on pastors, and a record to prove it. In 25 years it had 10 pastorates of 2 ½ years. I stayed 7 years and the church grew, I forget how much. But the one best year of my ministry was my last year there. I do not believe it has been as big since then. Last week I talked to a youth pastor who came from that church. He was 6 when I left there, and did not start attending until after I had left. Off handily he said that Springfield sure had short pastorates. In its 92 year history, I hold the longevity record of 7 years.

Eureka Ca. When I left, the attendance was around 350. It has never been that high since.

Wasilla Alaska: Attendance upon arrival 6-1986 was 63 its highest till then. Attendance upon departure 4-97, was 186. It has not been higher since.

Well, what does this have to do with your mom? I got to thinking about how she made so much difference. And it was not hard to figure it out.

She chose with my agreement not to seek secular employment even though she was a credentialed experienced teacher so she could help me. Even though all of our friend’s wives worked, so they could make it financially. We decided we would live on what I made, and we did. It’s strange that now in retirement it seems we are better off than any of them who wives worked.

She taught adult Sunday school classes everywhere we pastored, 42 years.
She conducted women’s week day Bible studies everywhere we went.
She edited and wrote the weekly newsletter and Sunday bulletin almost everywhere we went.
She edited all the stuff I wrote- letters, articles, etc. (and still does, except this one.)
She played the piano or organ everywhere we went, and was always the best singer in the church. She picked out the music for about every service. Was in charge of the music except the 3 years we had paid music people. She directed the choir in all churches except Springfield and Eureka.
She had the ability to see into people and tell me things about them that I needed to know. I depended on her a lot in that area.
She assisted me in some counseling sessions.
She was great in greeting people, and making them feel at home. Even though it was not one of her gifts, she was a good hostess and had lots of people over for meals, which many will say was the reason they started attending our church.

What the church didn’t realize when they hired me was they were getting two for the price of one. That is why every time I left a church, the people said, “It’s ok for you to go, just leave Betty here”.
Besides all this she bore and raised 4 really decent kids that have made us very proud of them.

So I thought you might find this interesting, especially since I only recently realized the impact she has made on my ministry. So 42 years of ministry, plus probably 20 or more years before and 7 years after our ministry. How many pastors in those 6 churches in that 70 year period and none of them had significant growth? If the average pastorate was 4 years, that would be 105 pastors, and I was the only one that had enough sense to marry Betty. Too bad there were no more Betty’s for those other poor preachers. (Betty would say if she edited this, “this paragraph needs work, bad”)

A loving and caring Dad. ,,,,,,….////???????’’’’((())))!!!!!::::::;;;;;; put these where they belong.

K
ids: Beth Anne arrived March 12, 1958. She came in time for my graduation from seminary. We were really glad, because for a couple of weeks we didn’t know if we could have kids or not.
Cindy Dell came to Texas July 18, 1960 while we were at Nocona. Eleanor Orndoff had to come and get me at a church softball game, to take Betty to the hospital.
Paul Dale appeared in Phoenix, Sept. 13, 1962. He was all boy, from the beginning.
Jan Lee made it to Oakdale; Nov. 15, 1968 she was the last, but not the least!


Beth (Bill) Cindy (MD2) Paul (Gon) Jan (J Babe)

It seemed like every time we moved we had a kid, with 4 kids born in 4 different states. After 4 kids, every time we moved we got a son-in-law, or daughter-in-law, and then we started getting grandkids. After 12 grandkids, we decided to quit moving.

I would like to say a lot about my kids, but this is about me. However, I must say something about them, so just be patient! How can you have 4 kids as good as ours, and not say something about them? I probably should have had more, since these 4 did so well, and it was so much fun raising them. They are of course grown now, and all have kids of their own. I am plenty proud of my 12 grandkids also: Meg, Curley, Spark, Arch, Sweet Pea, Caboose, Nubbin, Prof, Hap, Smiley, Ava, and Kate.
All 4 of our kids have college degrees, 2 have Masters and Cindy has a Doctorate. Between the 6 of us, we have 12 degrees.

All 4 have succeeded in their field. Beth and Jan are both school teachers. Beth taught 10 years in public school and then 12 years as a home school teacher. Meg, her oldest, graduated last May from Point Loma Nazarene University, Suma Cum Laude. Curlie and Spark are now in college. It appears they will match that. (So I guess she did OK at it). Beth is now teaching part- time in a Christian school, and home schooling. Jan has taught in public school 18 years. Plus, along with Norm, they are partners in a commercial salmon fishing operation in Alaska, where they now live.
Doctor Cindy lives in White Salmon Washington (in the heart of Colombia Gorge) and is in partnership of a Family Practice clinic, doing her MD. stuff. Paul with a Masters in Geology is in a 3 way partnership of the “Source Group”, a consultant company that cleans up ground water. His company employs around 100 engineers and geologists. From what I can see, it is a super success. Paul lives in Lafayette Ca. near Concord in the Bay area, except when he is at Mt. Shasta in his cabin. Nobody is for sure what Paul does, but it is ok, he seems to have plenty of money. Obviously I don’t have to subsidize them. It seems like each one, without really trying, knows how to make parents puff up with pride! Of course I would need to include their Spouses to make the picture complete, Ken Freed, Ken Schleicher, Jill Drake and Norm Darch.

Beth lives in Laton, Ca. Ken Freed is a teaching administrator in the Calif. State Prison system. Ken Schleicher is a sport fishing guide with his own business. Jill is full-time mom with an 8 and 2 year old, home schooling them. Jan lives in Nikiski, Alaska on the Kenai Peninsulas and is teaching there. Norm is a finish carpenter and successful commercial fisherman.

I guess I need a few growing- up stories. When Beth was about 1½ or 2, still in training pants, I was home for lunch one day, and something caused Beth to throw something down in anger. I told her to pick it up, in a very obvious act of defiance she said,” No”. I told her again. With a stomp of her foot, she said,” No”! I picked her up, laid her across my lap, and administered a few swats with my hand on her buns. I put her down and told her to pick it up. The few swats didn’t seem to impress her any, so I did it again. Again, her response was,” No”. Again, a spanking, again a” No”. This continued for about 15 minutes, until I tired. Then Betty started spanking and telling her to pick it up. There was no question but she understood what we wanted and no question about her stubborn resistance, so we continued. I took back over after awhile. Finally after 30 minutes of spankings, through her tears she said, “Yes”, and picked it up. Wow, what a stubborn will! She still has it, but ever since she has controlled it. We never had a confrontation again. She became a perfect child; I doubt that she got many more spankings after that. She graduated from Point Loma, with a Magna Cum Laude.

Cindy, had a similar streak, but never was as defiant. She would obey, then cross her arms on her chest and pout. She was the adventurous one, would ride her bike as fast as she could. If we went hiking, she was always in the lead. If we climbed a mt. she was always the first one on top. She was the leader, in anything that was a bit risky or scary. I got her a unicycle, and she stuck with it till she was really proficient, riding in parades etc. I guess this helps explain how she graduated from Olivet Nazarene University in 3 years, Suma Magna Cum Laude.

Paul, a real rounder, as a 2 year old he would go around hugging 4 empty baby bottles. He was rambunctious. It seemed like he was always getting sewed up from some minor injury. He channeled his energy into tennis, and got really good at it. I remember when he was in Cub Scouts and won the pine- box derby a time or two. He was a paperboy, and climbed Half Dome in Yosemite when he was 8. He finally got good enough at around 35 to occasionally beat me in Ping Pong.

Jan, the J Babe, when she turned 4 she was so proud of it, and talking about it, until I started calling her J4, then J5 etc. It eventually turned into J-Babe. She was a blanket girl, just like Linus. She had to have her “blankey” to take a nap, to go to sleep at night, and lots of other times. When she was 8, I decided she needed to be weaned from it, so I hid it under a chair cushion. When we moved to Springfield we sold that chair, and later realized that her “blankey” was gone for good.

When she was 8, I had a bunch of guppies in two 10 gallon fish bowls on the mantle over the fire place. I had gotten rid of a bunch of them, so one of the tanks was empty. One of the kids came up with a baby rabbit, and it ended up in the empty fish tank. Jan, in trying to get the rabbit out, knocked both of them off on to the floor, with 10 gallons of water everywhere. We were able to save a lot of the guppies, but not the fish tanks. The day after she graduated from high school we moved to Alaska, and that summer she got a job “fish sliming”, (cleaning salmon for the cannery.) That’s where she met Norm, and now 22 years later is still in the salmon business.

When each of the girls turned 13 I took them out on their first date. We would go out to eat, and then to a symphony, or something, and do some talking. When Beth was about to graduate from high school, they had senior hooky day. She asked me if she and 2 other girl friends and their 3 boyfriends could take our 1972 Ford station wagon, and go to Yosemite for the day. Of course I reacted like any other father. I was not about to let her and 5 other teens have it. The other 5 had already been turned down by their parents. I stalled, and said I would think about it, so I could come up with a good reason to say no. After 2 or 3 days, I could not come up with a reason, so I agreed to let them go. I am not sure, but I think that experience played a significant role in the way Beth treated her own teens. Just before she left for college, she and I took an overnight horse trip to Lake Eleanor. I would use any excuse to get to ride the horses. The others didn’t get that reward for making it to college, because Illinois did not have any mountains.
One of the best things about having kids and grandkids, are the great times we have when we all get together, usually at Christmas, and
Beth Cindy Paul Jan
Labor Day, we take the horses and pack into Lake Eleanor, just inside Yosemite for 4 days. We call it,” cousins” camp. And often we meet once during the summer. I still keep 7 horses, because the grandkids love to ride so much. Where we live has a super place to ride, over hills and along a creek, with no roads, in the spring

C
hurches: When I went to college for my senior year, the D. S. of the SW Okla. Dist., W. T. Johnson, called me and wanted me to go on Sunday and preach at a little church. It was just west of Okla. City. I did, and soon he asked me to do it every week. It was an old one- room school house that a lady had cleaned up and was preaching there every week. It was in a small community of about 20 houses, and 15 to 25 people attended. I would go out on Saturday and do some calling, and then preach twice on Sunday. I think they paid me $15 per week. I did this for 2 years, my senior year and Bachelor of Theology year at Bethany. Nothing remarkable happened during this time. I think its name was Pleasant Valley, or Hill, or View. The District credited me for 2 years of pastoring for this, which was a requirement for ordination. So I returned from seminary in September 1956, and was ordained.

K
ansas City Rescue Mission: I went to Kansas City Sept. 56, to attend seminary. Shortly after arriving, I visited the K.C. Dist Superintendent, Dr. Jarrett Aycock, to inquire about preaching someplace. He sent me to preach at the K. C. Rescue Mission. He had been saved in a Rescue Mission in L.A. years before, and had founded this one. Bert Hotchkiss was the superintendent.

It just so happened that I preached on the atoning blood of Jesus, which was Bert’s favorite preaching subject, so he gave the D. S. a good report. A week or so later he sent me to a small church, about 10 people, in St. Jo. Mo. I didn’t feel that was what the Lord wanted me to do. About this time Bert resigned as Supt. of the Mission, and Dr. Aycock asked Peter J. Guinnis and me to be Co-Superintendents. The Lord approved, and so Peter and I moved to the Mission, in separate rooms on the 3rd floor. The bath was at the end of the hall.

The Mission was at 710 E. 12th, in downtown K.C. It was a 3 story building about 30’ wide and 100’ long, 3 floors and a basement. The basement had the kitchen and dining hall. The main floor was the chapel. The second was for used clothes storage, and dormitory for converts who worked there- cooking, cleaning etc. The 3rd floor was a superintendent’s apartment, and a couple of bedrooms.

We had an evangelistic church service every night, and if they attended the service they got a free meal, which were usually beans with some meat in it, coffee, bread and maybe a dessert. About 50 to 75 were there each night. A few were regulars. I remember one very gentle man, not a derelict, or drunk, but so poor he came for the free meal. He had enough money to buy a piece of pie each day at Furr’s Cafeteria. And that’s all he lived on. He always came clean and dressed up. I doubt he missed a service in the 2 years I was there. Once he saved enough to take Betty and me to Furr’s for a piece of pie. Another guy in similar circumstances, and a Christian, came quite a bit. He kept bragging about the tremendous view from his room. He wanted us to come over for a meal. Finally we arranged it. He had 1 room on the 3rd or 4th floor at the back of an apartment building. The bath was down the hall. The view was of the railroad yard. We sat on the bed. His furniture was orange crates on the floor or nailed on the wall for shelves. The meal was 2 slices of bread and 1 slice of baloney.
(LEFT) Betty and Dale, KC Rescue Mission, 1958
One evening I was out on the side walk inviting people in as they walked by, and along came one of the residents from across the street, (it was a whore house). She was drunk, came in and went down and sat on the front row, where most drunks wanted to sit. Just before the service started, I went down and brought her to the back row, so we could control potential disturbances. She sat down meekly enough, and I went back to the sidewalk inviting people in. Suddenly, I received a kick in the seat of my pants, as she stalked off cursing preachers. I visited another gal from across the street, in the hospital because she had her ear bitten off in a fight.

Twelfth St. is famous for the song “Twelfth Street Rag”. The mission was in the middle of the block. On the corner toward downtown, there was a saloon on each corner. Looking the other way, toward Troost St., you could see 17 saloons. There was a fire station next door, and a police station a block away. It seemed like every 4th car was an emergency vehicle with its siren on. Across the street on the second floor was a whore house.

I preached once a week, and was in charge of signing up preachers every night. I got acquainted with a lot of the general leaders of the church (the International Headquarters of the Church of the Nazarene is in K. C.), getting them to come and preach. I assisted or conducted the service and helped with the meal afterwards. We got free food (freezer burnt meat, old bakery stuff, etc.) given to us. Each Sunday morning I would attend a different church in the area and present the Mission, raising money and getting used clothing.

One night a tall Negro man came to the altar and got saved. Betty and I were talking to him afterwards, sitting on the platform. He said he was an opera singer and had studied in Europe. Betty was sitting on the piano stool, and I said to her play something, and he suggested a spiritual “Sometimes I feel like a motherless child”. He started singing, and “wow – double wow”, he was a good opera singer. He had a deep bass voice and bellowed out with such beauty, I will never forget it. He stayed and helped out at the mission. We took him with us every Sunday morning and had him sing when I gave my presentation.

Betty and I did most of our courting there, since I had to work 6 nights a week. I would pick her up in Kansas, drive her to Missouri, and go to the service. She would play the piano and sing, then we would go out for a piece of pie or something, then back to Kansas for a good- night kiss or two, then drive back to Missouri.

On the 2nd floor was a room, unavailable to the public part of the building, where we kept used clothing. We gave an altar call every night at the service, and usually had seekers. There were a lot of genuine conversions that greatly changed lives. Very often, after a seeker prayed and confessed his sins, on his own he would reach into a pocket and pull out a pint or even a quart of wine. Often as not there would be a sack of Bull Durham,( roll your own tobacco), with it. Nearly everybody smoked “Bull Durham” on skid row, because it was the cheapest tobacco available. There was a sink behind the platform, and I would pour the wine out in it. I could not throw the “Bull Durham” into the trash, because the converts who lived there would be tempted to use it. I would stick it in my pocket, and after everything was over, and I was on my way up to the third floor where we lived, I would toss it into a corner in the clothing room. Just before we moved, we cleaned out the clothing room, and there was a grocery bag full of “ Bull Durham” that had collected.

Pouring out wine, reminds me of an event in Alaska. I had been dealing with a couple for some months that had bad marriage problems, and neither was willing to get serious about dealing with them. They, or one of them, would show up at church occasionally. Things reached a climax when she left, and he was desperate. I was at his house when he finally decided he needed to give God a chance. He prayed, and said he was converted. As I was leaving, he said, “What am I going to do with all this beer I have?” It was about 20 cans. I told him I would get rid of it for him. I put it in the floor of the back seat of my car and forgot about it. Several weeks later, we were at the District Pastor’s Christmas party at the D. S.’s house and I went out to the car to get something out of the back, and there was that beer. It suddenly dawned on me, “What better place to get rid of it than the D. S.’s garage. As I was sort of concealing it, another pastor came out and caught me. He thought we should hide some of it in the D. S’s refrigerator, which he proceeded to do. I don’t know if the D. S. ever found out who did it, but I did get a report that he was not a very happy camper.

The Mission was a valuable experience in dealing and understanding people, and contributed to my ministry. In getting preachers there every night, I got aquatinted with a lot of our General Church leaders, such as Dr. V. H. Lewis, who later became a General Superintendent, Dr. Mendel Taylor, Dr. Ken Rice, and many others.

N
ocona, Texas: I went to K. C. single, with a few things in the back of my car. I graduated 5-15-58, with a wife, 2 month old Beth, and a U Haul trailer filled with furniture and stuff. We took off for Okla. City. We had a new ‘57 Studebaker “Scotsman”. Miraculously, it was paid for. When we bought it, we were in Bethany at my folks. I drove it to the house and brought Betty out to see it. She took one look at it, turned around, and went back in. It had no frills or chrome on it. I took it back to the dealer and he took off the green hub caps that matched the rest of the car, and put on fancy chrome set and said “Try that”. I went back and said to Betty, “Take a look at this one”. She liked it. It cost $1.700.

We left the trailer there and drove the “Scotsman” to Tucson, Az. to see Betty’s folks and show off Beth. We went back to Okla. City for a couple of days, and then in June ’58 we went to Nocona, Texas, 150 miles S. of Oakie Burg, to our first church. There were 19 there the first Sunday, but usually about 40. Three years later, when we left, it was running in the 70’s. We repaired and enlarged the sanctuary, and added classrooms on both ends of the building. We had some great experiences there.

Our starting salary was $40 per week. It was soon raised to $45, and before we left, to $50 per week. I was the first pastor not to have a secular job, along with pastoring. The previous pastor often had to wait a while to get his salary. I never got mine late. The church had never paid its budgets for missions etc., but we somehow managed to get them paid each year. And we paid them every year we pastored. (42 years). I am sure there are other pastors who have done that, but I have never heard of any who have.
I taught the teen Sunday school class, 7 or 8, mostly boys. I went
Dale, Beth, Betty in front of hunting with them and different things, but couldn’t seem to make
The Nocona Parsonage any head way with them spiritually. Finally, I took my Bible and started listing scriptures about salvation and getting saved. I organized them in the steps of salvation. Then I typed them so that they fit on the fly leaf of my pocket Bible.

I got the ringleader alone, and explained these scriptures to him. I asked him why he didn’t want to get saved. Surprise- he did want to, and so we prayed and he confessed his sins and was saved. So I started dealing with the others individually. Having seen the change in Eddie, they also got saved. Later while in Oakdale, I wrote out a 5 session non-Christian Bible study that presented the gospel in the 5th session. I trained several laymen to use it, and many people got saved as a result. It was one of the reasons for good growth in Oakdale. I still use it with success.

Soon my whole class was Christians, and they got new teens coming, and I worked with them. One of the new teens, Alvin Pendergraft, lived in the country, the only child of elderly parents. He really became a sincere Christian. He started hanging around a lot, so we would teach him. He was called to preach, and in a letter to us after we left, was doing it, as opportunity afforded. He was also instrumental in reaching others.

He had some experience with upholstery. We had a chair that needed upholstered, and I had built a box to hold our 78 music records. When he saw them, he asked if he could upholster it for us. He did a real nice job with vinyl. On the chair he put some decorative buttons on it and told us he had put a message in them. When we left Eureka, we sold it, and forgot to look in the buttons. I wish we had. This means of soul winning (one on one), later became very popular, with the “Four Spiritual Laws”, the “Roman Road”, and “Evangelism Explosion”.

One thing that happened there shaped our ministry in a most positive way. We arrived in June. By October, I had a good idea of the finances and their past record of mission giving. So, in preparation for the Thanksgiving Offering for world missions, I preached 5 sermons about missions, and giving. They were a big success. They inspired 6 people to sacrifice and give $1 each for world missions, along with our week’s salary of $40, Betty and I felt God wanted us to give. That God wanted us to do this, was hard to believe, because we had no savings, and lived from paycheck to paycheck. We had a 6 mo. old Beth, and did not have enough food in the house to last the week, or enough gas in the car for the week. Nevertheless, we decided to do it. What happened next were the miracles. It was getting cold in North Texas, and we did not have a coat for Beth. On Monday morning a lady came by and said she bought a coat for her grandkid and it did not fit, could we use it. It was much nicer than anything we could have bought her.


The church when I arrived The Church when I left

On Tuesday, a letter arrived in the mail with a $50 bill with no name or any idea as to who sent it. So we went to the grocery story. On Wednesday the city manager called me and asked if I could drop by his office. I did, and he pushed two $50 checks across his desk to me, said one was for the church, and one was for me.

The same day another member, who lived in the country, invited us out for supper, and before we left he said drive your car out by that tank and fill it up. I didn’t want to cheat him out of a blessing, so I did. At Prayer Meeting that night, a retired minister that lived out about 30 miles invited us for Thanksgiving dinner, so we went.

In 3 weeks we had received over $300 in cash and gifts. Talk about a faith builder, it worked for us. Guess what we gave at the Easter offering 4 months later? Yep, a week’s salary, and we are still doing it, (even when our salary rose to $1,200 per week) after 50 years. God is still providing the miracles, even in retirement. Anyway, the people caught on, and started giving, we paid our missions budget. This experience helped us in faith projects over the years, and in leading our churches in building programs.

The church began to grow, and soon we needed more room. Also, the ceiling of the church had a big sag in it. Both sides looked like an upside down rainbow. The consensus was that we would have to take it off and replace it. Uncle Dewey, a Baptist preacher who had built lots of churches, dropped by. I told him about the problem, he looked in the attic, and explained to me how we could fix it without taking off the roof.

Nocona was oil- well country, so there were a lot of used rods that were used for driving the oil well pumps. He told me how to fasten one on each rafter with a turn-buckle, put in a couple of purloins, then jack the bow out of it, and tighten up the rods. It worked. I went by Nocona 45 years later and the roof was still straight. He also drew plans to expand the building, with Sunday school rooms on the front, and a fellowship hall on the back. We borrowed $6,000 from the bank for materials, and built the additions with volunteer labor. We had many a night and Saturday cement or work parties.

The pews were old and needed replaced. Rev. Emmet Stewart, a retired pastor, told me we could build a set of pews. So I drove to his farm several times a week for several weeks, and we built a modern, sturdy set of pews that are still in good shape, and look good.

We thought we would stay there forever, but in 3 years God made it clear he wanted us elsewhere.

P
hoenix, Central and Paradise Valley: Unexpectedly, a call came to go to Phoenix Central. I had met Dr. Mann, the D. S., while in Tucson on vacation, but did not know him. So without an interview with the Phoenix congregation, we accepted, after knowing it was God’s will. (We accepted our first 3 churches sight unseen, for us or them.)

Central Church. It was at 2000 E. Mojave, and was an older church in the older part of Phoenix. It was ½ mile from the main runway of Phoenix International airport. The parsonage was across the street from the church. At night the lights of landing planes shown in our bedroom window, hit the big mirror on the far wall and lit up the whole room. It seemed like you could almost reach up and touch them. On Sunday mornings the Air National Guard was flying fighter jets. They would take off right over the church, with their afterburners on, and a long streak of fire shooting out the back of them. I don’t think I preached a single Sunday morning sermon without stopping to let the noise subside. It was the only church I every pastored that “tongues of fire and a might rushing wind” were exhibited.
There were sure a lot of great people there. The church was running about 100, and it started growing. In 2 years we averaged 125 in attendance, had every nook and cranny filled with Sunday school classes, and a full sanctuary. The problem was that we (Left, Phoenix Central) were land- locked with no room to build. We started looking for land to buy, so we could build a bigger building. We could not find a suitable spot that did not interfere with another Nazarene church

Since it was an older and a bit run- down neighborhood, 95% of the people had moved to other places in Phoenix, and lived closer to another Nazarene Church. Unbelievably, the congregation voted to close the church, sell it and the parsonage, and send me and the money to then north side of Phoenix, Paradise Valley, about 15 miles away. We would start a new church. In June 63 we moved to 3219 the Presidio, in Paradise Valley. The District had bought 5 acres, ½ mile north, to build the church on. We started out in a school cafeteria, and then moved to a store- front until we got the Church built.

The Church building was a perfect circle, a round sanctuary with the platform on one side. It was surrounded by class rooms. It turned out to be very functional and was good looking. Someone gave us 2 big palm trees and we planted these before we started building, and hauled water to them, until we got water on the site.


Paradise Valley, Phoenix

The church was sitting out in the desert all by itself. The place where it was, is now a freeway, and is surrounded by houses for miles and miles. When we were there, the area was 90% desert. Now it is 100% houses and stores. We had a great ministry there. In 5 years we averaged 125, most of them converts from the area. We still have friends from there that we hear from regularly. We go to Phoenix about once a year and have a meal with 7 or 8 of them that are still there. I was there in my office when Betty called and told me President Kennedy was shot. I had a 125 Yamaha motorcycle I would ride to church. Occasionally, some of the guys who had motorcycles and me would head out into the desert, playing follow the leader. On New Year’s Day we always had a church picnic in the desert. On Labor Day we would go to the Verde River for a baptismal service and picnic.

The second year we lived in Phoenix, we planned to go to Bethany for Christmas. I had a cousin, Bruce who lived in Phoenix with his wife and daughter. He was by the house on Thursday and said he was going to Bethany also. Said he was leaving Friday, we could not leave till Sunday night after church, I tried to get him to wait and go with us. He said no, so I said OK I will meet you Noon Monday in Amarillo and we will eat at Underwood’s Bar B-Q a place we all liked. Of course he should have got to Bethany Saturday night. Monday noon while driving down Hi Way 66 in Amarillo I passed a car and honked it was Bruce, he had car trouble, and was still 5 or 6 hours from Bethany. I will never forget the look of unbelief on his face when he saw us. I should not have honked; I had to buy him lunch at Underwood’s.
After learning how to fly, we decided to fly to Bethany for Christmas one year, Sunday night after church I called the aviation weather service to check if the weather was ok to go, and it was. We were up early the next morning in order to be at the airport at dawn, and I called to check on the weather again, and it was so bad we could not fly. We were all ready to go so we decided to drive. Something was wrong with my 61 Rambler that was the family car. So we decided to drive our new V W Bug. Jan had not made her appearance yet and the other 3 were small enough to fit into the back seat. We got 2 to 3 miles from home on a 1.000 mile journey when Paul asked are we there yet. At 10:00 pm we were in Amarillo Texas, I checked to see if we needed gas, we liked to buy gas in Shamrock Texas about 100 miles East on Hi Way 66. We had a ¼ of a tank and I knew that was enough to make it to Shamrock. My mistake was, it was enough in the Rambler, which had a big gas tank, but we were in the V. W. about 35 miles later I realized my mistake, and we started looking for gas, being around 11: pm every station was closed. To make things interesting there was a blizzard raging. (The reason we could not fly) snow was blowing horizontally across the front of the car from the North. It was so cold the heater on full could not keep the ice off the inside of the side windows from our breath. About 8 miles from Shamrock after checking every gas station, we ran out. I noticed a farm house and stopped in front of it thinking we might be able to go in and keep from freezing. We stopped, and I turned off the lights and Betty said: “what now” (plus a little more). I replied “I don’t know” and just then I saw lights coming up from behind us, I turned the parking lights on and before I could get out to see if I could stop the vehicle it pulled over behind us. Behold it was a gas truck. We had stopped in Albuquerque and bought a bucket of chicken from the Colonel, we still had the bucket in the car. I grabbed it and the guy filled it up, and would not let me pay him. We were back on the road in less time than if we had stopped at a station for gas. You might call it consequence, but I call it a guardian angel working over time. Betty says “all my guardian angels put in for a transfer”.
When I was out in the desert exploring or hunting, I often found pieces of broken Indian pottery, in fact I found it all over the state, and I would stick it in my pocket and got a pretty good collection. Someone told me about an old Indian village, the only thing left was about 7 trash piles rounded over each about the size of a house. It was on the Gila River about 50 miles from Phoenix. One day when the kids were out of school, we drove down and found it. There was a power line running along the edge of it, and a few days before a grader had come along grading the power line trail. He had cut into the edge of a couple of the mounds and uncovered a lot of broken pottery. In Arizona it is against the law to dig for artifacts, but you could get them if they were exposed. These were exposed so we picked up quite a bit of it. About 4 months later an article came out in the “National Geographic” magazine, telling about that Indian village. The U of Ariz. Had dug it up and documented everything and not having enough money to develop it covered it back up. They had dated it and said that the decorated pottery I put around the chess board was 2.000 years old.
Previously I had taken stuff I found over the state and in-laid it in a coffee table and grouted it like tile. It was ok but nothing to brag about, but I learned what could be done. I went to the Salvation Army thrift store and bought a home made table out of an old door, it was about ½ the size of a door. I decided to make an inlayed pottery coffee table. I put it in the corner of the dining room and when I came home for lunch and supper I would work on it while I was waiting on the meal. After 3 months I finally finished it. (Betty is a slow cooker) I cut 32 squares about 2”of dark and light pottery for a chess board in the middle and grouted it with black grout. Then I made a circle around that and put in decorated pottery, and grouted it with white grout. The rest of it I just used plain pottery including the sides and used brown grout. It turned out so good that Betty has not throwed it out yet. It has been in our living room for 44 years. It is still as in as good of shape as when I finished it. After I got woodworking tools I made some fancy oak legs for it. I hear rumors of some of the kids wanting it if I every check out.
While living on Mohave Ave., when we first came to Phoenix, our house was 1/2 mile from the end of Sky Harbor International airport, in direct line with the main runway. Landing airplanes would be so low; you would think you could almost touch them. While there, Boeing introduced its new jet, the 707. On American Airlines first flight into Phoenix, they had an open house and you could tour the jet. I had not flown commercial or even in private airplanes, and I sure wanted to fly in one of them.
A bit later Lufthansa, a German airline, began training pilots in Tucson, flying many times a day over Betty’s mom’s house. I began to pester her mom about calling Lufthansa up and asking for a flight, since it was such a nuisance to her. She finally did, and they agreed. Emerson, Betty’s dad, Betty and I, got on a 3 hour training flight with Lufthansa. I remember standing in the cockpit door while making touch and go’s on the runway. They also flew over New Mexico doing all kind of maneuvers with the plane. Betty’s dad got sick, but I loved it. I had always wanted to be a pilot, so this incident got me looking for some way to arrange it. I have now flown so many hundreds of thousands of miles in a jet that is a pain in

The District camp was at Prescott, about 100 miles north. I worked in the Junior and Senior High School camps there every summer as a team leader, and always had the winning team. The camp was divided into 4 groups, who competed in sports, bible Quizzing and other areas after 5 years and 10 wins they started giving me all the small weak teens. We won anyway. The first camp-meeting there I was walking over the camp, and saw a small hill, that on the plot map said “rock pile”. I looked it over good, and decided I could build a cabin there. I hauled material on top of my ‘61 Rambler classic there, and built a modified” A” Frame, kitchen and living room down stairs, (all in one room), and bed room up-stairs. Every afternoon during family camp there was a “laymen versus preachers” softball game. It was great fun and very exciting, as both were good teams. I was 1st baseman.

One winter we went hiking on South Mountain, not on a trail. We came to a place where I had to jump down and then reach up for the kids. I could not quite reach them, so I told them to jump to me, but they were afraid. I decided I needed to teach them to trust me. I started them jumping to me at waist level, and kept raising it till they were jumping several feet down to me, even off the patio roof. Soon, they were jumping off the patio roof into a waist high small swimming pool. Cindy was always the leader in that kind (Right, cabin at Prescott) of thing.

In the fall, winter and spring, I liked to go out in the desert exploring on my day off. Sometimes Betty went, but she didn’t
like it as much as I did. I had a new V.W. Bug. I bought it in Germany and had it shipped to Houston, Tx. and flew down there and got it. Two weeks later I was out in the desert with it. I was on a small 2 rut road and came to the Verde River. I could see where the ruts came out on the other side, and decided I could make it across. I started, and soon water was splashing on the windshield, and a little further it started to float down stream. My heart sank. How was I going to explain to Betty losing a brand new V.W. Fortunately it floated against a underwater berm, and with the foot- feed still floored, it began to inch across. It got far enough to quit floating, and went on out with no problem. I looked in the engine compartment and it was bone dry. When I got across I saw the tracks belonged to a road grader. There was no way back, but the same crossing. I conducted a prayer meeting and headed back into the river. The same thing happened. It floated against the berm, then made its way out. I then conducted a praise meeting.

Before I got the V. W., I had to take our ‘61 classic Nash Rambler. I never did try a river with it, but across the years I knocked two holes in the oil pan, and three in the gas tank, driving in the desert. I found out it pays to carry chewing gum. I got pretty good at taking the oil pan off for welding. One time out with another preacher we had gone several miles up a wash and got to some steep cliffs, and there we saw a wild bee hive in a hole in the rock about 1/2 way up. From the top of the cliff to the hive was about 15’ and about 20’ from the hive to the bottom. We decided that with a rope we could lower one guy down and get the honey. The next Monday we were back, with ropes and netting to put around our face and gloves. I was lowered down with a bucket and something to get it out with. There was a 3’ ledge to stand on. When I started to get it the bees were not happy, and one got inside the netting. I slipped and would have fallen without the rope. We got 2 gallons a piece and it was good honey, I got stung a couple of times.

One of the guys we were trying to get into church was a Civil Air Patrol officer. He said they needed a chaplain. I investigated it, and decided to become a CAP Chaplain. I was Major Horton when we left Phoenix. I taught some cadet classes and made a lot of friends. Through the CAP I met another member who was a flight instructor, who agreed to teach me to fly. There was an organization in Phoenix called “Wings for Christ”, whose goal was to train missionary pilots. They agreed to let me rent their plane, a 4 seat Piper Tri- Pacer. So whenever I got a few dollars, I took a lesson. In April of 66 I soloed, and in July, got my private pilot’s license. To celebrate we flew to Tucson that night to see Betty’s folks. While I was there I was reading an aviation magazine about cross wind landings. It said as soon as your main gear was down, to put your nose gear down, to give you better control. I filed that bit of advice away in my brain for future use. When we got back to Phoenix there was a strong cross wind. I decided to put the new information to use. In landing in a cross wind you have to have the plane in line with the runway when you touch down. To do that, you have to use the opposite rudder of the wind to straighten it up. I forgot that on a Tri- Pacer the rudder also turned the front wheel. As soon as my main wheels hit, with the rudder still pushed to line it up, I pushed the nose wheel down, and immediately was off the runway into the desert. Luckily there was nothing there, so acting like I did it on purpose, I drove back to the runway and continued the roll out.

I used that plane on a lot of searches for lost aircraft. The Air Force would buy the gas, and “Wings for Christ” would let me use if for searches. One Christmas we rented it and flew to Okla. I would also rent it to tour the district for Bible- quizzing and youth talent meetings for NYI. I flew it over the Grand Canyon a couple of times, and to Pueblo for my cross country solo. I suppose that flying, horses, and woodworking are my hobbies. I haven’t flown as pilot in command since I left Alaska. I can’t find any I can rent for $7 an hour!

After 7 years in Phoenix, we felt God leading us to move. We received a call to Oakdale Ca., and accepted it.

O
akdale, Calif. In June ‘68 we went to the General Assembly in Kansas City, from Phoenix. We visited Betty’s folks in Tucson, my folks in Bethany, Bone in Colorado, and then drove to Oakdale. It is in Central Calif. near Modesto and Stockton. We arrived on Thursday morning during VBS, after camping the night before in Yosemite, where we watched the Fire-Fall. It was the last year for the Fire-Fall. Our furniture had arrived before us and was already in the parsonage. It was a 2 year old, 4 bedroom beautiful home. That evening I played softball with the church team.

The church was running 134 that year. We were a good match and had a successful ministry there. The church began to grow, and fill the 2 story building, built during the depression, with the old parsonage next door. There was also a house we bought and used behind the church, and even another church building a few blocks away for Sunday school. It was evident that we must build, but there was no room on the church property. So we started out to buy adjoining property. There were 4 houses and a vacant lot on the same block. One of the houses came up for sale, and we purchased it. We hired a youth pastor, the first for the church, and Dennis and Carol Sams moved into it.

The vacant lot belonged to one of the members, so we bought it. The house to the right was an old one on a big lot. The church had been trying to buy it, and the one behind the church, for years, with no success. We made it a prayer issue and soon both owners agreed to sell. The old house was used by the teens for a haunted house before we tore it down. The other one was used for Sunday School, it was on 3 small lots. The owner lived in Sacramento. I drove up there several times talking to her about selling. Just as the deal was ready to close, we discovered she had given one vacant lot to her son. He was mad at his mom for some reason, and would not sell, so she could not get the money. I went to Chet’s real estate office and got a quit-claim deed drawn up, went to the bank and got 8 - $100 bills, and drove to Modesto to the son’s house. I started laying $100 bills out, and told him he could have them for his signature on the deed. He was reaching for the pen before I could get it uncapped. The last house was a fine brick house, and the owner had no reason to sell, nor did he want to. I talked to him and explained our need and he agreed to sell.

Now we owned the whole block and could begin to plan how to build. Before we got anything done, a grocery store owner offered us a good price for the whole block and all the buildings, and allowed us to use the church for 5 years rent free. We accepted and began looking for property, and finally bought an old chicken farm, five acres on the edge of town on the same street. We began clearing it and planning a new church complex. In less than 3 years, Dec. 9, 1973, we were moved into our new facility. It was a round sanctuary, an office and fellowship hall, 2 large Sunday school units, and a paved parking lot. It was the most beautiful and useful church in town. The sanctuary soon became the wedding chapel of Oakdale. Before I left, we had purchased 2 more adjoining parcels. We saw a lot of miracles in Oakdale.

In 1972 I decided I could afford a horse, Oakdale being the so called “cowboy capitol of the world”. What choice did I have? We had some members who lived in the country, Ivan and Ruth Ramsey. They had horses, but had to move away for 2 or 3 years. They came back for a visit, and I told them I had decided to buy a horse. When they moved back, I would go riding with them. About a week later I received a letter in the mail from them. They said they had an extra horse and that if I wanted to; I could keep her till they moved back to Oakdale. It took be about 2 seconds to get around and write them back. I said, “Yes, yes, yes.” In 2 weeks they arrived with “Lady”, a big 16 hands high. She was a beautiful sorrel with white blaze and socks. The only strange thing about her was that her tail was only about 8” long. I liked her anyway. That was in September. In October, the pastor’s retreat took place at Hume Lake, up in the mountains above Fresno. A pastor friend from Bakersfield had horses, and we agreed to take ours to the retreat. We had afternoons off for riding in the mountains. It was great!

The old Oakdale Church, built in 1932, from the framing lumber used in the bridge over the Stanislaus River. The church was built with volunteer labor..

When he arrived, he had a 17 hand beautiful, paint stallion, a real beauty. It happened that Lady was in heat. Wayne offered to breed her, so I called the Ramsey’s, and they said, “Sure, go ahead.” Eleven months later, a well colored paint colt was born. The field behind the church, where I kept her, got irrigation water that night, and the colt’s navel got wet and infected. The vet could not save him.

About this time Wayne moved to Louisiana and had sold his stallion in Bakersfield. He still had 2 free breedings left when he moved. He told me I could have them. Meanwhile, I had bought a paint mare from him, “Yen San”. So, I took Lady and Yen San to Bakersfield, and came back with 2 pregnant horses. When Lady’s filly was born, it was raining and the wind was blowing. So Carol Sams, my associate’s wife, suggested that I name her “Rinda.” We did, but she soon became known as the “Queen”. She was everything anybody could want in a horse- big 16 hands, beautiful, charcoal with a white blaze, knee- high white socks, and a big white blotch on her rump, with the top part of her tail white. The best part about her was her gentleness. And I could get her to go anywhere. I was on her in the mountains in Alaska three different times looking down on dall sheep. She packed out of the mountains- moose, caribou, and Dall sheep. I rode her thousands of miles in the mountains of Alaska and California Sierras. Any time I would whistle, she would neigh back to me. She was born in April 1975, and died in the spring of 2003, at Copperopolis.

I have her son Nugget, daughter-Aurora, grandson- Lightning, and great granddaughters: Ava, Annie, and Sarah. Rinda’s brother was born a year later. His dad was a sorrel paint, and he should have been. But he was just sorrel, with a white blaze and 3 white socks. I was so disgusted when I saw he was not a paint, that I walked into the house and asked if anybody wanted that colt. Paul beat the others in saying, “Yes”. He named him Gent. He was a good looking, gentle horse that anybody could ride, after Paul broke him. I never let anybody ride the Queen, I didn’t want her spoiled. A friend and I bought an old open
Cinder, Rinda, and Me
top, single- axle horse trailer. I used it for a couple of years, but soon realized I needed a better horse trailer. A friend that lived in Merced, who had gone with us to Israel, was an insurance adjuster. I told him to keep his eye open for a wrecked trailer I could buy cheap and fix up. Soon he found one for $300.

I put it in the driveway, got a sledge hammer and started straightening it up. The front top of it had been knocked off and crushed into a ball. The sledge hammer triumphed, and after a few months I had it repaired and painted. I remember taking it out to the church under a big oak tree, and with a come-a-long standing it on its end, so I could square it up. I had bought a’66 ElCamino, lime green color. I matched the trailer and put a white top on it, and had one of the best looking trailers in town. Twelve years later, when I needed a 4 horse trailer, I sold it for $2,000, and bought the one I have now. I can put 6 horses in it.

I did a lot of backpacking in the Sierras. But after getting horses, it became horse-packing. I even got Betty to go on one trip with me and Paul.

Not long after going to Oakdale, I attended a Sunday School Convention with Ponder Gilliland speaking. He said if you increase your attendance 10% each year you will double it in 7 years. I thought- I can do that! I talked with my Sunday School superintendent, Fred Stude. We decided to go for it. We did it, and in 7 years we were twice as big in attendance. We had tripled the size of our facility, and more than doubled the financings. My last year there we averaged 296.

I served on a lot of district Boards while in Oakdale, including the District Advisory Board, and was a delegate to the ‘76 General Assembly, and the ‘72 NYI convention. Beth was a delegate to the’76 Gen. NYI conventions, as well.

Beth graduated from High School here in 1976, and went to Point Loma Nazarene University in San Diego. When Paul was old enough for a paper route, I contacted the lady in charge, and he started delivering the Modesto Bee. When Cindy saw him making money, she signed up, and soon Beth followed suit. They were the first paper- girls for the Modesto Bee.

One summer about 3 years before we left, one of Beth’s friends, Tammy Morphis, had a dog with pups. Beth wanted one of them, but I was reluctant, because we had some bad experiences with kids and pups. One Sunday night after church, we were getting into the car, ready to leave on vacation, waiting for Beth to get in. She and Tammy came to my window, and wanted to know if Beth could have the pup. We were going to be gone for 2 weeks, and I thought surely the pup would be gone by the time we got back. I said, “Maybe, if they still had it when we returned.” Without my knowing, Beth told Tammy to hold it, and she did.

The day we returned, Cinder - a pure blooded mutt, arrived. I explained to the kids they were responsible for caring for it, teaching it to obey etc. About three months later, Cinder had turned into a pure nuisance, chasing cars, etc. I knew by then that I could not get rid of her, and the kids did not know how to train her. So I took on the job, and in just a few weeks, she was performing adequately, and everybody was happy.

But when I took on the discipline job, I became her human. She would play with the kids when I was not at home, but when I showed up, she was my dog, my constant companion. Soon she was going with me everywhere: to the office, in the car, everywhere, but to church on Sunday. I estimated in her 14 years, she traveled with me over 500,000 miles. I have never seen such a faithful animal and perfect friend. She went on vacations and horse trips. I would go calling at a home, let her out, and would go in the front door. She would go around the house looking for a way in, and not finding any, would return to the front door and await my exit. I never had to look for her, she was always there. She kept track of me, slept on the foot of my bed.

One vacation we were returning home from Colorado at Christmas time. A storm had delayed us, and we were driving all night in order to get home in time to preach. We stopped at midnight in Topeka, Kansas on Saturday night for gas. The kids got some hot chocolate. I checked to see if everybody was in, including Cinder. As we were leaving, somebody spilled the chocolate, and we had to stop and clean it up at the station. Somehow everybody got back in, but Cinder.
When we stopped for gas at Junction City, Mo., Cinder was not there. We called the station and the guy said she was there, checking every car that came in, to see if it was us. I asked him if he would take care of her ‘till I got back. We could not go back then, because I was just barely going to make the next 150 miles home in time to preach. Some of our friends were In Kansas City for Christmas, so we called them, and they agreed to go to Topeka and get her. They got back to the station Sunday afternoon, and Cinder was still there checking out every car. The attendant could not get her to go home with him when he left. Since she knew our friends, she got in their car and was soon home.

She was with us the last 3 years in Oakdale, Springfield, Eureka, and 1 year in Alaska. When she got old, she also got deaf. One day while I was working on a new church building, she lay down in front of a wheel of the pickup. She did not hear it start, and did not move. I didn’t know she was there. I made a casket and we buried her beside the lake.

I met a couple of mechanics, Mel and Dick Cruise. They were pilots and had several pilot friends. About 8 of them decided to build a small single seat, tricycle airplane. They each coughed up $50.00 and bought plans for “Teeny Jeannie” and some aluminum to build it with. Bill Mathies was one of them. They were working on a wing, and invited me to join them. I found $50.00 and started showing up once a week, when I could to work on it. When they got one wing finished and saw how small it was, they got discouraged and quit working on it.
So I took some stuff home, and when I could, worked on the other wing. In due time, I finished it, so I started working on the fuselage. In due time I got that finished, with the stick in, the controls hooked up, wheels on. I could roll the whole thing in and out of my garage. It was to have a V.W. engine in it. A used one was purchased, and the Cruises were going to overhaul it.
I had the plane ready for it, but when they saw how small it was, they never did get around to working on it. About that time God called me to Springfield, so I took it out to the airport, and don’t have any idea what happened to it after that.
About 4 months before we moved to Springfield, I was at the D S’s house in Fresno for an Advisory Board meeting. He had an old 1931, 2 door Austin. His grandson inherited and wanted to sell it. He wanted $400, so I bought it. The next time I came down for a Board meeting I bought a trailer and took it home. It was all there, but needed to be taken apart and completely rebuilt, which I was going to do. However, I had not got around starting on it when God made me go to Springfield. So, I took it to Turlock to a car show, and sold it for $1500. Of course, I really didn’t have time to work on it, and I needed to buy a newer car, and the profit helped me do that.
In February of ‘77 we left Oakdale. In April of ‘97 we returned to Oakdale, twenty years and a few days in between. The pastor of Oakdale had just resigned effective the last Sunday of March. I started preaching the first Sunday of April, and was to be the interim pastor. The church had seen some hard times- the attendance and finances were down, as well as the morale. But things began to improve, and by June the board and the D.S.,Wil Spaite, long- time
Oakdale, Church of the Nazarene, built 1973

Friend of mine, were asking me to become the pastor again. I finally consented in August, after the Lord told me to. We pastored 3½ years. Then God allowed me to retire. (I guess he thought that was easier than healing my hearing).I was 68.

During that last tenure there, the church had increased from 90 to 186 in attendance and the finances greatly increased. The church had received top recognition, (the eagle award), each of those years. We had bought our first house, having lived in a church parsonage for 40 years. Just before retirement, we bought a 5th wheel R V. We could think of no better place to retire than in Oakdale. We did retire on Nov 2, 2000. In Feb. 2001, the church declared me to be Pastor Emeritus. In August Paul bought 20 acres near Copperopolis, and in Dec., 2001 I moved my” rest home” on it, and began work on our present house ,etc.

S
pringfield, Illinois, First Church: About December of ‘76 I began to feel a restlessness concerning Oakdale, and talked to the D.S. Bill Dietz about it. He said you are just tired out, you just need a vacation. He talked to the board about it, and they told me to take Christmas off. So we went to Okla. for Christmas. We got back Jan .1, and I went to work. I thought he was right- that was all I needed. But before the day was over, I knew God was telling me He wanted me someplace else. I was very happy at Oakdale, and thought we would stay there the rest of our lives. But God knew differently.

I got a call to Sacramento, went there for an interview, got the call, but did not feel free to accept it. We received a call to Lancaster, Ca., interviewed, got the call, but did not feel free to accept it. Then in early Feb., I got a call before lunch, from the D. S. of Illinois, Dr. Hunton. He wanted to know if I would interview at Springfield First. General Superintendent Dr. Stowe had recommended me. I told him, ”Thanks, but no thanks!” I did not want to leave the west, and I especially did not want to go to that church. It had a bad reputation of being hard on preachers. In fact, it had 10- 2½ year pastorates in a row. I went home for lunch and told Betty about it, and we laughed about the ridiculous idea of going east, especially to that church. By the time I went home for supper, the Holy Spirit had worked me over to such an extent, that I had called the D. S and told him I would come. The next week I was there, got the call, and prayed all the way from Chicago to San Francisco, for God not to make me go there. Everybody that knew anything about Springfield First, said a guy would have to be crazy to go there. Well, I must be crazy, because I went. God made me go.

By early March we were driving into Springfield. I told Betty, just before we got there, that we would stay there a couple of years, straighten it up and head back to the West. It was 7 years to the day before we headed back west. I think I enjoyed every minute of being there, even the hard times. Our last year there was the one best year of our ministry. We had the most growth, baptisms, professions of faith, etc. of any one year.


Springfield First Church of the Nazarene, built in 1975.
The building was 2 years old, had a big semi-round sanctuary, and lots of classrooms. The first electric bill we got was over $5,000. So, we started fixing it so that it would not use so much electric heat. There was a cross about 4’ high in the office. I found out that it was for the big steeple that was on the top of the church. The cross had not arrived when they put the steeple up, and no one would climb up and put it on. So I rented a 40’ ladder, got a member to help, and at daybreak one morning when the wind was calm, put it on. Being on that ladder about 55’ up with nothing but the ladder and me, was one of the scariest things I have ever done! At the top, the steeple was only about 3 inches diameter!

We moved the parsonage from 8 miles away, to ½ mile away. After I was there for one year, I took a 4 year recall vote, got it, and started working on the church problems. There were a lot, but we stuck it out and overcame them, and made some good friends, and the church prospered.

After 4 years I had to have another vote. Before you could take a 4 year vote, you had to take a 1 year vote. I took it the earliest I could, as there were still problems, and not everybody was happy. The D. S. told me he didn’t think I should take it, that I would not get a 2/3 vote that was necessary. I decided to play it by ear, and the morning of the vote I counted the votes during the singing, and decided I would make it by 3 votes, so I took it. When the votes were counted I made it by 2 votes. I accepted immediately, and continued working on the problems. Three months later, on the last Sunday you could take a vote, things had changed so much in that time that I took a 4 year vote, and got it easily.

The first or second Easter we were there, we had a big ice- storm. It hit on Good Friday. Tree limbs were down everywhere, electricity was off for over a week. The church was heated by electricity, and of course there were no lights. We cooked on a Coleman camp stove in the garage. Driving was the most treacherous I have ever experienced. Many businesses, and of course schools, were closed. There was talk of not having church on Sunday. I got the word out for people to dress warmly. We got candles placed around the pulpit, and had a good service in the cold and dark.

Cindy and Paul graduated from high school there, and both went to Olivet Nazarene University. They graduated from there. Cindy graduated while we still lived there. I also received a Masters’ Degree of Church Growth while pastoring there. It was a 3 year program, in which you attended 3 weeks of classes a year, and a lot of homework, plus a thesis. While at Springfield, I was appointed to serve as a trustee for Olivet Nazarene University. I really enjoyed this position, because I felt that I could really make some significant contributions.

The new parsonage in Springfield was a new 4 level, garage on ground level with a bath, utility and bedroom behind it. It had a big basement ½ floors, below and beside it. After Dad died with cancer, I inherited his wood-working tools, so I made ½ of the basement into a shop, and the other ½ into a play room, with a ping pong table and couches. My interest in woodworking was revived here, and I have made hundreds of things since then. A church member gave me a lot of barn- wood, and I lined the play- room wall and ceiling with that. It was very nice. The living room and family room had a fireplace and kitchen. Above it, and beside it, were 4 bedrooms and 2 baths.

The first summer in Springfield, we kept the horses in a big field about a block from our house. It belonged to one of our members. It had a lake in it and a lot of trees. (In the winter, our family often went ice skating on this little lake). After a while, we began seeing a young deer with the horses. It seemed as if the horses adopted him, because he was always there. After we started riding the horses, the deer would follow us. He would go on one side of us, and I would make Cinder stay on the other side. We rode a lot like that, until winter came, and we had to move them to a barn that belonged to the same member, Jerry Oliver. We rode them the 5 miles to it, hoping the deer would follow. He did, until we had to cross a long bridge across Springfield Lake. He would not cross the bridge. We never did see him again.

Springfield, being the home of Abe Lincoln, was an especially interesting place to live, and we visited all the historical places many times, especially when visitors would come. I think I knew as much as possible about Abe Lincoln, as well as reading a lot about him. After I retired, I started working on my genealogy, and was surprised to discover that I am related to Abe. Abe’s mother, Nancy Hanks, had a grandfather named Luke Hanks, who also is my 5th great grandfather.
Taffy, leading Gent, and Rinda

My great grandmother, Elisabeth, was a Hanks. So Abe Lincoln and I are some kind of cousins. It is strange that a nick name, “Rail Splitter”, was given to me by a long- time friend, Wil Spate, while we were living in Phoenix.

Rinda turned 2 and Gent 1 in June of 77. I started riding and training Rinda, and since Paul was not very heavy, I let him start training Gent. I was too heavy to ride him, so Paul had to do it all by himself. He got bucked off many times. I would always holler, “Hold on! Hold on! He finally got the hang of holding on. The last time Gent ever bucked, we were riding in a big meadow, running, and Gent started bucking. I hollered, “Hold on!”, and he did. When Gent quit bucking, Paul was holding on to his neck, and his body was dangling down over his face, his feet still off the ground. I guess Gent decided bucking was not worth the hassle after that.

Paul was a teen there, and we developed a ritual. In the winter we would go out and clean out the horse stables ever Saturday and then go riding, regardless of how cold it was. We went, even when it was -20’. Then we would go to the Chili Den, a hole in the wall café. It was just a counter and row of stools. They only served chili and hot-dogs. I loved their “Fire brand” chili. If you could eat a bowl of “fire brand”, they put your name on the wall. Betty and I went through there in 2005, and the Den had moved, but they still had “Fire brand”, and it was still as good. We had breakfast that morning with 15 former church members. Since we had moved they had built an Abe Lincoln Museum, and an Abe Lincoln Presidential Library. Of course we toured both.

E
ureka: I enjoyed our 7 years in Springfield, but still had a yearning for the West. We took most of our Springfield vacations in the West. I was pleased when the D. S. from Northern Calif. Dist. called and asked me to interview at Eureka. About 10 years before, Bone and family, Paul Orndoff and family, and our family, vacationed in “Jedidiah Smith State Park”, in the redwoods North of Eureka. I had heard a lot about the Eureka church, from a seminary friend who had pastored there. We looked at the church and the town, and I said to myself,” I would like to pastor there.” Now, many years later, here I was being interviewed. I got the call, and God approved, so I accepted. I also took Bill Bishop from Decatur, Illinois as music director, and Jim Yates from Casey, Illinois as youth pastor, with me. It was February 1984.

Eureka is on the coast, the farthest western spot in the Continental U. S., and in the heart of the redwoods .It is a beautiful place. The highest temperature I saw there was 76 degrees. I saw it twice- once in June, and once in January. The church was running 400 with 2 worship services. The church had a K-12 Christian School. Jerome, a great African-American, was principal. Soon I hired Dennis Sams, my youth pastor in Oakdale, as Christian education pastor.

So, we had 5 full-time staff and 2 full-time secretaries. The church had a gym, and lots of activities. It was an influential church in town. It had a nice parsonage 2 blocks away. It also had a 160 acre camp, about 25 miles East on the Mad river. We ran our own children’s and youth camps for our church, and for the 4 churches near us. I also started a family camp.

In the summer I kept the horses out there to give the kids rides, (as I did in all of my churches for VBS and camps). Of course, I managed to ride as well. Once, while riding in the mountains behind the camp, I came across a marijuana farm (Eureka was famous for growing pot). I reported it to the sheriff. Later, he told me it was worth ¼ million. After I started keeping my horses in Diamond XX I discovered a smaller one.

I liked the trees, the town, the ocean and beach, the camp, the church, everything. We made some great friends there. It was about 400 miles from Sam Francisco, so we actually felt more isolated than we did later living in Alaska. I thought that I would stay here until I retired. Riding the horses in the redwood forest was great. You could ride for days on logging roads, and not see anyone. Deer hunting was a big event as well.

While I was in Eureka, we put new carpet in the sanctuary, remodeled some class rooms, did a lot of work on the camp ground, put in R V hook ups, remodeled the kitchen, and brought in electricity. The former pastor had been there 8 years, and had done a great job of getting community people into the church. He was a “topical” preacher, (take a topic and build a sermon around it), which means you could preach forever and not preach on doctrine. I am an “exegetical” preacher, (take a passage of scripture and build the sermon around it), which means you cannot preach a sermon without dealing with doctrine. As a result, he had taken a lot of Calvinists into church membership. Several were board members. One was a retired Baptist minister, who was doing a great job teaching an adult Sunday School class. I was not there but a few weeks, and the Calvinists began to show their heads.

The Church of the Nazarene is a Wesleyan, or Armenian Church, as far as doctrine is concerned. There is a great deal of differences doctrinally, between the Calvinists and Wesleyans. I had no choice but to preach Nazarene doctrine, and soon I had a lot of dissension on hand. Two years after arriving I had to take a renewal vote. The Calvinists had enough people to keep me from getting a 2/3rds majority. I did not have to pray about that vote. I was out, my term to expire the Sunday after the District Assembly, June 15, 1986. I took the vote on Mar. 23. Two or 3 weeks later was Easter. It was my last Sunday.

The D. S. asked the board to buy me out, as there was so much division over my leaving. They did, and we purchased a used travel- trailer, and went to Oakdale. Jan was a senior in high school, so she stayed with friends, and graduated in June. We were loaded in a U-Haul, and left the next day for Alaska. The 2 months that we were in Oakdale, I worked for one of the church members as a carpenter, building new houses. Many of the Eureka people are still good friends and we occasionally see them. I have been back and preached there since.

After the vote I immediately wrote up a resume and sent it to all western District Superintendents. I left the one addressed to Alaska on my desk. (I was afraid to send it, for what Betty would say). A couple of days later at lunch, I told Betty that I had addressed a resume to Alaska, thinking she would explode. She only said, “You can’t turn down an offer you don’t get”. So, I went back to the church and mailed it. Two weeks later I was in Alaska interviewing for Wasilla. Meanwhile, I had received another call to a church in Vancouver, Washington. We interviewed, received the call, but did not feel that was where God wanted us. Instead, we accepted the call to Wasilla, which was ½ the size, with ½ of the salary of Vancouver. It was the best move I ever made.

W
asilla, Alaska: We left Eureka Saturday afternoon, drove to Crescent City, spent the night there, and went to church with our friend, Leonard York. He was the pastor there. We started out with a U-Haul van, the biggest, pulling the horse trailer with Rinda and Gent. Also we had our car, a Buick, and a Scout International pulling our RV. When we left Oakdale on Thursday we picked Beth up at the Sacramento Airport, and packed the U-Haul on Friday and Sat. morning. We attended Jan’s graduation Friday night.

Kenna, the church organist, went with us to Alaska to help us drive. We left the Buick at the Seattle airport, for Ken to pick up on Wednesday. He was to catch up with us in Canada. When we left Crescent City early Monday morning, it took us 10 days to reach Wasilla. That included a day visiting the world fair in Vancouver, Canada, and had the truck worked on that day also. We spent 2 nights in Albertsford, Canada just across the border, with a D. S. friend, Dr. Ken Vogt. He had a place to keep the horses. We had quite a time getting across the border, with the 2 horses and the guns we had. After several hours of haggling with the officials, we managed to enter.

On Thursday night, we were camped beside a river, keeping in touch with Ken through Cindy. This was before cell phones. Around midnight, someone was banging on the trailer, and it was not Ken. He had hit a moose, about 15 miles before he got to us. I unhooked the Scout and went back to get him. He hit the moose straight on, and it flipped back on the car, taking the windshield and roof, depositing them in the back seat. I now had a real nice Buick convertible. The only damage to the car was the roof. Fortunately, Ken got his head down, and did not lose it, as sometimes happens in similar situations. He only got a busted lip and was some shook up. Fortunately, we did not need another driver, since the car was totaled. The trip was one of beauty and interest. We were in the mountains most of the way. The U-Haul could only do 250 or 300 miles a day in the mountains, and you would have to shift to granny, and get maybe 10 miles an hour going up hills.

We arrived in Wasilla Wednesday evening, about the time prayer meeting was over. They soon had the truck unloaded, beds set up, and we were home. It took me up to 2 or 3 seconds to adjust to Alaska, but I managed.

John Vaughn, 82 years old, founded the Wasilla church 8 years before, was moving to Palmer to start another church. The church had averaged 63 that year. Eureka had averaged almost 400. In Wasilla, I was the only pastor, with volunteer secretaries. Eureka had 5 paid staff and 2 full time secretaries, but somehow I seemed to enjoy Wasilla better. The Sunday school and church began to grow, and the church and I both seemed to be quite happy. By the next June, we were in a building program, enlarging the sanctuary and adding 6 large class rooms. A pastor friend, Mike Ice, from Illinois, brought a Work and Witness team up to help construct it. When they left 2 weeks later, we were putting shingles on.

As the church year drew to a close, I realized we would need $12,000 to finish the church year in the black. I talked to the church board about how to raise it, and suggested that the last week of the church year, we reverse the tithe. We would give 90% to God, and live on 10%. They agreed, and on the last Sunday of the year, the offering was $12,038! Ninety-five percent of the people participated, and the result was such a blessing received from God, that the effect was better than a revival. The morale of the church reached a new height, as the congregation experienced the joy of giving.

Trudy, Doyle Dean, Dale, Mom and Cinder, May 1986, just before I moved to Alaska.

A couple of weeks later we were at the Sunday School convention, and the speaker, in talking about praising God, said that if we did what we should, we would applaud for the privilege of giving when we took the offering. In the next service, when I took the offering (I was district Sunday School Chairman), the congregation applauded. The following Sunday, at home, when I took the offering, the people were still excited about the miracle of giving. Those who were at the convention applauded. It caught on. Now, 21 years later, they are still doing it, and several other churches have picked it up. We never had to appeal for extra money after that. We paid off a building loan 7 years early, started another building fund, and in a few years, built a gym and 12 large class rooms, debt free.

Wasilla is a bedroom community for Anchorage, 45 miles north. It surrounds Wasilla Lake, Lucille Lake and several others. The church was on the Palmer- Wasilla highway on the shore of Wasilla Lake (about 300 acres), with the parsonage next door. With the lake right at our front door, it became our baptistery. Twice, I broke out 15 inches of ice to baptize people. Usually, we did it on the Sunday before Labor Day. If the temperature in the summer hit the 70’s, we occasionally went swimming. Taffy, our golden retriever, went all the time, if there was no ice on it.

In the wintertime we had skating parties- with hot chocolate, hotdogs and a big bonfire on the lake. When we could keep the drive to the lake free from parking- lot snow, we would drive across it to a resort, saving over a mile to the other side of town. Occasionally, we would cross-country ski across and have a meal at the resort. We rode the horses on it as well. In the winter there were golf tournaments, snow machine and motorcycle races on it. On New Year’s Eve, there would be a tremendous fireworks display, with several hundred cars parked on the lake to view the fireworks. We saw it from our living room. On July the 4th it did not get dark enough to enjoy fireworks.

Our first winter there, one of the members drove his well- drilling rig onto the lake ice and drove down some pilings, on which we built a dock. I got a guy with a big dump- truck to bring sand, and he spread it on the ice close to the shore with his truck, so we would have a sandy bottom. We bought a canoe the first summer. Jan and I paddled the canoe through the culvert under the highway, and down behind the church property across the street, where I kept the horses. We ended up at the mall, and called Betty to come get us. We did not want to paddle upstream.

The first summer, the utility company ran a gas line in front of the church, so we changed all of the electric heat for the church and parsonage to a gas fired boiler, with hot water heat. It saved thousands of bucks on the heating bill. I had a blower-heater in the garage,
My car on Wasilla Lake, the church and parsonage.

so that we could get in a warm car, and not have to plug it in, to warm the motor in the winter. One winter the lowest temperature we had was -43 degrees. It was a Sunday, and I thought no one would come. But they all did. A lot of them let their cars run, all through S. S. and Church.

The district camp, “Camp Maranatha”, was about 20 miles from Wasilla, on Hourglass Lake. The Wrights, who managed it, attended our church. It was just a summer camp. In a year, I was on the camp board, and the next year was camp chairman. Over the next several years, we built 4 major buildings with Work and Witness teams and volunteers, and winterized the dining hall and cabins. The Wrights were tremendous managers and workers, responsible for so much of the work. They are great friends yet. We had a monthly work day for pastors or anybody year around, and had some great times. We even worked when it was -20. There were children’s and teen camps, family camp, and a men’s winter retreat. It soon began to be used year around, rented to other churches etc. We saw it last summer, and it is still really a nice place.

In the winter, it was quite common to see moose across the street with the horses, or out on the lake. One evening a moose laid down in our front yard. It was snowing. The next morning I looked out, but could not see the moose. But I did see a 1” hole in the snow, with his frosted breath coming out. He had been completely covered with snow during the night. About midmorning, he got up and wandered off.

After we got to Alaska, I realized that my 4 wheel International Scout was really too small to pull our RV and horse trailer. An Anchorage pastor had been given a 76 3/4 ton 4 wheel drive Ford pickup. It was bigger than what he needed, so we traded. The pickup was just what I needed. It had a big 460 engine in it. It had some rust spots on it, but looked pretty good. It soon got the name of “The Wonder Truck”, because you wondered if you would get back. But it never failed to get me home.
Over the years the rust got a lot worse. A Mexican fellow came by and was hard up. We let him stay in the church basement some, and helped him find some work. He had been a car-body worker, and he volunteered to work on the pickup. I had already started putting some body putty on it. He ended using 2 gallons! A church member had given me a gallon of bronze auto paint, so he painting it with that, but he didn’t have quite enough. We got some silver spray paint, and he made a design, so the whole thing was painted. We called it the Guadalajara special. It was one of a kind!

In ’96, Norm bought it and drove it to Boise. One day he had driven it to Northwest Nazarene University, working on a building. At lunch, he was sitting in it, eating lunch, when a student walked by. He did a double- take, stopped, and said, “That truck is from Alaska.” He was from Anchorage and had seen it up there, probably out at Camp Maranatha.

The church continued to grow every year, and our last year the average was 186. The gym served also as the fellowship hall and church foyer, so there was a lot of activity. I thought we would live there till retirement, but the time came when Betty and I both began to feel that God would have us resign. I fought it as long as I could, but finally had to face it. We had no idea what God wanted us to do. Since I was 64, I did not think I could get another pastorate. So we decided to semi-retire and move outside (the lower 48). I thought I could supply pastor, do interim preaching, revivals, and Faith Promise Conventions.


Wasilla Lake Church of the Nazarene. The middle section was the only building when we came. The part with the steeple was added in 1987, and the gym and classrooms on the other end were added in 1995.

As soon as hunting season was over in Sept., I took the 4 horses (Rinda had produced Nugget and Aurora) to Jan’s house in Boise. I did not want to move them in the winter. We set a date to resign, but for a good reason, postponed it. We set another date, and again postponed it. Finally, in February I resigned. It was the hardest thing I ever did. We still did not know what God wanted me to do.

Two weeks later I received an inquiry about interim pastoring in Oakdale. I later understood the reason for the delays. God needed us in Oakdale. While driving out through Canada, the call to be the interim pastor at Oakdale was confirmed. We stopped at Cindy’s house in Wenatchee, Washington, Jan’s in Boise Id, then on down to see Paul and Beth. I started preaching the first Sunday of April, 1997, as interim. In August, I was confirmed as pastor, so we went back to Alaska to preach at the family camp, and a revival, and move the rest of our things to Oakdale. In December, we bought the first home we had ever owned. We had lived in church parsonages for 40 years. When we left Oakdale 20 years before, the church had averaged 296 in attendance. It was now about 90, morale was low, finances were down, and staff had been laid off. But it suddenly began to turn around, attendance and financing increased. When we retired in Nov. 2000, the church average was 186. While there, we replaced roofs on 3 buildings, got a new air conditioner for the sanctuary, and made other improvements. We were pastors of Oakdale for over 12 years, total. When we left Wasilla, we did not know where we were going to go, but we had considered Oakdale, or being near Cindy for medical care. But God knew what he was doing all along. He needed us in Oakdale, and he wanted to set us up for retirement. When we retired, our Oakdale home was paid for.

C
opperopolis: After moving to Oakdale, we received a supper invitation to Bill and Loretta Matthias’ home. They had been in the church when we were there the first time. They lived on 20 acres, 27 miles NE of Oakdale near Copperopolis. Soon the horses were moved there, and I was there every week or so, riding and taking care of them. The first time I was there,I started teasing Bill to trade homes with me. There were 190- 20 acre parcels in the sub-division called Diamond XX. Many of them had not been fenced, so you could ride to a creek up and down it, over beautiful hills. All of it was an oak forest. In the spring, there were wild flowers- orange poppies, purple lupine, and many others in profusion.

When I retired, I started trying to figure out how I could move up there, and get Betty out of town. I had not made any progress on it, when one day Paul came up to ride. Out of the blue, not knowing I wanted to move there, he said “Dad, I will buy 20 acres here and you can build a house on it.” Wow, what an answer to prayer! We looked around and found a lot we liked, went home and called the reality, and found out it had just sold. We looked at another one, but did not like it as well.

(Right, Nugget, Lighting, Casey, and Aurora taking a break from mowing the lawn at Copperopolis. I am helping them.)

About 3 months later, I was up to ride the horses and saw the “For Sale” sign was still there. Nothing had been done on the one we liked. I called the realtor, and he said it just now came back on the market. The buyer was having trouble raising the money. I called Paul, and on Saturday he came up and we rode over it again, went home, and called the realtor to tell him we would take it. He said “The guy just came in and had raised the money”.

Betty had been dragging her feet on the thought of moving to the foothills, 27 miles from town. I didn’t know if I could persuade her to move or not. When she heard it was sold again, she cried. For the first time, I thought that maybe we would move. Monday morning, the realtor called me and said it was on the market again. I drove immediately to Copperopolis and put a deposit on it. Two weeks later it closed escrow. It was August, 2001. We put our house up for sale. It sold and closed escrow in December.

The property was roughly rectangular, had a road on 3 sides, was hilly with oak trees and several Jeffers pines, and had a lot of poison oak. It had one level spot, about 125 yards off the road, where we built the house. It has a seasonal creek, water from Dec. to April. It is a beautiful place and I thank God every day, for letting me live here. If I had tried, I could not have come up with a better idea about where to retire.

We moved our “rest home”, (5th wheel), up to Bill and Loretta’s place, and began working on the property. Water, electricity and septic system were the first business, along with clearing oak trees and poison oak. By February, we had water and electricity. We moved the “rest home” to the property. We had decided to buy a manufactured double-wide, and about decided on one in Manteca.

Meanwhile, we went to Quartzite in Arizona, to visit with friends and go to the dentist in Mexico. While in Yuma, between dentist visits, we looked at homes. We found one we liked. It was repossessed, but never had been lived in. It was 56’ x 32’. When we returned, we found another one we liked, and finally decided we would get one of the two. We made a low offer on the Yuma one, and it was accepted. Even with the cost of moving it here, we saved thousands of dollars. It arrived in April, and we moved in on May 1, after putting it together.
We had started work on the shop and garage. A friend gave me 40 trusses, so I built it to fit under the trusses. The shop was 31’x 40’; the garage was 32’ x 40’. The shop had a tack room, storage room and 2 stables in it, leaving a 20’ x 40’ area for shop. The garage had 2 stables in it, and a ping- pong room above them. I could put the car, the truck, and the “rest home” in it, plus a squeeze of hay.

The secret of all of this work was grandkids. They moved firewood, graded floors, dug foundations, etc. Over Mother’s Day, Jan and Norm came down. The grandkids came up, and we erected the shop. The grandkids helped in a big way, especially putting the trusses up. Later the garage went up with their help. The next major project was fencing the place. I bought a used welder and learned how to weld, doing the corner posts. We put a steel post every 7’ and strung 7 strands of barb wire. We used 7.2miles of wire. It was nearly a mile around the 20 acres. By this time I was having trouble with my knee, and could not have done it without the grandkids. They can learn how to do anything, and they do it well.

After 8 years of burning oak firewood, (our only heat), I still do not have the oaks thinned out enough. I put up a big bell near the back porch, and when I ring it the horses come. They couldn’t hear me whistle when they were on the back 40. Things are just about nice as they could be. I just need more time and energy to enjoy it all.

A
bout being a pastor. Scanning over this, it seems like I do a lot of stuff that has nothing to do with preaching. And I haven’t even started talking about vacations and hunting. Of course everyone knows that preachers only work one hour a week, and that on Sunday. If I heard that once, I have probably heard it 5 million times. I often even joke about it. Once a good member even made a statement about it, and it teed me off. I started keeping track of the hours I worked, and everything I did: the number of phone calls I received and made, home and hospital calls I made, and time spent in counseling, sermon preparation, prayer, board meetings, etc. I was surprised, after a week, that I had worked almost 80 hours. I thought that must be an unusual week. So I did it another week, and it, too, was over 70 hours. On thinking back over the two weeks, I realized they were just ordinary weeks.

Down through the years I discovered this was par for the course. One of the nuisances about pastoring is that you never get done. There are always more people you need to see, more time spent in prayer and sermon preparation, more things you need to read, more promotion to do. It can be very frustrating. Any pastor that thinks he can succeed working a 40 hour week, doesn’t have a clue. There are so many demands on your time.

Foremost, is preaching. It is simply amazing how often Sunday comes around. You must prepare 3 messages a week, and you can’t be late. I didn’t realize how stressful sermon preparation was, until after I retired. One Saturday night about bedtime, the pastor called me about something, and I asked him if he had his sermon ready. Then it dawned on me, “I don’t have to preach in the morning”. Even when you are not on the job, sermons are on your mind. You wake up at night, and you are thinking about it. It is difficult to prepare 2 sermons a week and a Bible study. In spite of this, I was always reluctant to give up my pulpit. I was always in the study by 6 AM on Sunday, making the final outline for my sermon. I was working Sunday afternoon, finishing Sunday night’s sermon. Knowing what to preach was sometimes a stress thing. In spite of all this, I still accept every invitation to preach I get, sometimes even conniving to get them. I estimated I preached 5000 times, and conducted 2200 Bible Studies.

Counseling takes major time consumption. It’s something you can’t postpone, as people who are hurting want help now, not next week. I was asked for advice about everything you can imagine, but the bulk of it was marriage, and finances.

Administration: It has to be done, and you are the guy that does it. You are CEO, chairman of the board, etc. If you don’t do it, it doesn’t get done. Running a large organization of mainly volunteers is a big job, probably harder than in a similar size secular organization. You can’t fire anyone. You are at the top of the heap, and you have to know everything, see everything, anticipate, etc. It takes time, vision, patience, and a lot of faith, to lead a growing church. To lead a church board in making decisions, you have to have a lot of information. Leading a church takes a lot of time in administration. Monthly board meetings come around really fast.

Probably the main thing in leading a volunteer organization is being able to get along with people. It is amazing how many people (pastors), don’t know how to do this. I have had many pastor friends that were always complaining of the horror of going to board meetings, I don’t think I had a bad board, or went home crying after a board meeting, in 42 years. That’s over 630 board meetings. Probably 99% of the things I proposed got passed, and that included 5 major building programs, and other major decisions. This is not to mention promoting the Sunday school, Missionary society, NYI, special events, etc. etc.

On top of this, there are District and General Activities:If you are a successful pastor, you will probably be on the District Advisory Board, Ministerial Credentials, and several other boards and committees. I often spent 3 or 4 days a month doing district things. I was on the District Advisory Board in Central Cal and Alaska districts, and was a Trustee of Olivet Nazarene University. I was District Sunday school Chairman in Alaska, and was on the Ministerial Credentials Board 30 years. I was Director of Bible Quizzing in Arizona and Central California, and many other committees. I was a delegate to 2 General NYI conventions, one General Assembly, and 3 General Sunday school conventions.

Shepherding is part of the job, making hospital calls. It often had to be done every day, sometimes in several hospitals miles apart. This involved comforting the bereaved, conducting funerals, officiating at
Me, receiving an award at the General S.S. Conv. weddings, being in every prayer meeting,
from General Supt. Don Owens in Indianapolis. etc. Then there were unofficial things: like
attending birthday parties, anniversaries, weddings of member’s kids out of town, etc. Then there are all the dinner invitations that come- most of them enjoyable, but consuming a lot of time.

Evangelism is a must if you have a growing a church, and this involves personal soul winning and following up on seekers and visitors. A pastor could spend most of his time doing this, if it was not for all the other things he has to do. I had converts and people joining the church on profession of faith, plus baptisms, every year I pastored.

Teaching- It is amazing how many committees need to be chaired, S. S. teachers’ training classes to be taught, and special interest things that deal with public relations and church health.

Weddings, Funerals and Baptisms: I have no idea how many weddings I performed- hundreds at least. While in Alaska I lost my record book. Weddings were fun to do, but a lot of the work, as there are 4 or 5 sessions of pre-marital counseling. I would not perform a wedding, without pre-marriage counseling. Over the years I developed a pre-marriage counseling curriculum that I thought was pretty good. I did it so many times that I did it my memory. Then there was the rehearsal, (that never started on time), the wedding and the reception. A lot of weddings were of non-members. Lots of people who don’t go to church want a church wedding.

Besides all of the regular ones, I got to perform Bone’s, Trudy’s, Beth’s, Cindy’s, Paul’s, and Jan’s weddings. Sometimes funny things happen, in performing wedding, my associate’s the groom, sang to his bride. At the conclusion of the song, he was supposed to kiss her. When he finished, he was so moved with his love for her, he didn’t know what he was doing. After a long pause, she whispered, “Kiss me”, but it was loud enough for the congregation to hear. They applauded.

At Beth’s wedding, Ken was to kiss her after I pronounced them man and wife. In the process of doing so, I paused to take a breath, and Ken took that for his cue. So he starts to bend over, and I start again, and he straightened up again. I realized it was a great opportunity! So I pause again, and he starts bending over again. The third time, the congregation applauded him.

Funerals of course are hard, unless the person is very old and a very good Christian. Most of the funerals I did were of non-Christians. It seems like that people who don’t like going to church, like a Christian funeral. I never did preach them into heaven, unless I really believed they were there. I had one sermon I especially liked for them. I nearly wore it out, preaching it so many times. The really hard funerals are suicides. I had 3 of them, and 1 murder. Children’s funerals, of course are very hard. I did Bone’s funeral, because Kate asked me to, I wanted it done right. It was difficult.

Baptisms were fun. Only 3 of the churches had baptistries. So I used lakes, swimming pools, rivers, creeks, and even in the Jordon River in Israel. I baptized Betty and the D.S. there, and was re-baptized myself. In Wasilla, Wasilla Lake was 100’ from our front steps, so it was our baptistry. We usually had a big baptism and picnic on Labor Day Sunday. Twice I broke out 15 inches of ice to baptize people. After coming up, they didn’t stay around long. I have baptized my kids, Ken Freed and several grandkids. I baptized Trudy in a lake in Nocona. While taking off my shoes, I placed my hand on a tree to support myself. Unfortunately there was a wasp under my hand. By the time I was finished my finger, had swelled about twice its size from the wasp sting.

Availability. The only one way you can be a person’s pastor is to be available to them. They must feel free to talk to you, drop in for a chat, take you out for a Pepsi, etc. You must be the first one at the church for services and the last one to leave, so you can be available to people who need to talk and to establish rapport with them. Your office door and windows must be open, so people will come to you. You must be ready to answer the phone, 24/7, day off or not.

Me receiving the “Church of the Year” Building. If you succeed in pastoring, the church is
Award from DS Roger Wegner. going to grow. Sooner or later you will need more room.
The only way you will get more finances is to get more room so you can get more people. Finances are always a problem, because a few are building for many. Quite often, the only way you can do it is by volunteer work. To be able to recruit volunteer workers, the leader must be a participant. You are the leader, so almost every time volunteers show up, you have to be with them. Plus, you must lead in making the decision to build, getting them to do it, drawing the plans ( as I did several times), or arrange for it to be done. Most of the leg work in a volunteer building program also falls on the pastor, including getting building permits, buying supplies, securing equipment, etc. In my first building program in Nocona, I didn’t know anything about construction. However, I knew how to ask questions of people who did. So I found contractors who were willing to help, and began asking questions. I ended up with others, learning while doing and doing about everything.

After going through 5 major building programs, I now consider myself a builder. I proved it, by being in charge of building 2 houses for neighbors here in Diamond XX. I did all the electrical work on the 20.000 sq. ft. church we built in Oakdale, and elsewhere. Of course, when you are in a building program, you have to cut down on church work, so the work load increases. Much of it must be done in the evenings when people are off work, and always on Saturday. All 5 of the building programs included volunteer work, and 3 of them almost totally done by volunteers. The Oakdale project was ¾ built by volunteers.

In building the Oakdale sanctuary, we made the roof in 14 sections and then lifted them on with a crane. One Saturday morning I realized we had to have the steeple constructed, ready to put up when the crane came for the roof sections. I got a set of plans and began to build the quite intricate steeple. It had 14 different sections 28 sides in the same pattern as the church. It was 25’ tall with a cross on top. The diameter was 5’ at the bottom and 4” at the top. We had hired a preacher, Bud Holder, who had been a former contractor, to oversee the building. One of the members, who for some reason didn’t like me, went to him and said, “The pastor is trying to build the steeple. You better stop him before he wastes a lot of lumber”. He said, “I will keep my eye on him”. He told me after it was erected. I finished it, even though it was difficult, and when the crane set it on the roof, it fit perfectly. I was even proud of the job! The member who had complained, had new respect for me, and because he was a talented guy, I put him in some important positions. We got along great after that.

Revivals. Before I retired, revivals were an important part in church life. An evangelist would come for a certain period. When I started pastoring, it was 15 days long. When I ended, it was 6 days or less. There would be a church service every night, with the emphasis on getting people converted. Many of the converts of the church would be the results of a revival. I was saved in a revival. Revivals didn’t lighten the pastor’s job, even though he is not preaching. It increases it, because of taking care of the evangelist, and calling on people to increase the attendance. Often there would be several weekly prayer meetings preceding it, in preparation. Of course the pastor would attend those, too.

Believe it or not, you must do all of the above in a 40 hour week (ha). After all, doesn’t a preacher only work one hour a week? Besides that, you have a family, and you must spend time with them. I tried to take a day off every week, but didn’t always make it. I tried to be home for supper every night, and usually made that. In Oakdale we all had bicycles. I came home a little early if I could, and the kids and I would ride, playing “follow the leader.” You were the leader, until you put your foot down.

If the above sounds like I am complaining about all the hard work, (pastoring is for sure the hardest work I have ever done), I am not. I have thoroughly enjoyed being a pastor, and cannot image me doing anything else. I would not want to do anything else. I guess what I am trying to do, is dispel the false notion that many people have, that being a pastor is a piece of cake. While it is not easy, it has a great many rewards. You make great friends all across the country, and you know that what you are doing is making a difference in people’s lives, affecting their eternity. All this makes it worthwhile.

Quite often we get expressions of appreciation. Betty just recently came across a Christmas card received a few years ago. It said. “Dale and Betty, I have a great deal to be thankful for this Christmas, much of it a result of your spiritual guidance, words of encouragement, joyful nature, and genuine friendship. You have improved my life, and I thank God every day that He put you in my path. I hope both of you have a wonderful holiday season, thank you,” signed Steve. Just this week I saw a guy I had not seen in 31 years, and he expressed his thanks for the contribution I had made to his life.


Knowing what is the “will of God” in your life: this is extremely important in being a Christian. I suppose that the first thing is to live so close to God that it is second nature to know his mind. Using scripture, Christian experience, godly counsel, and church doctrine is of course always in order. I don’t remember having any instruction about this or especially making it a special study. But over the years I have identified how I know what God’s will for my life is, and it has worked very successfully. I have never made a decision and decided later that I was wrong when I used this method. The Holy Spirit began leading me very early in my Christian life and I was so eager to please him I always followed.
The first thing I remember was a week or so after being saved. I had never read the Bible, and no one told me I ought to be reading it. The Spirit began placing in my consequences that I should know what God’s word said, so I got a Bible and started reading. I read from Genesis to Revelations from Sept. though Dec. Then the Holy Spirit led me to read it through the next year. That’s when I figured out that if I read 3 chapters a day and 5 on Sunday I would complete it in 1 year. I basically am still following that plan reading every day.
A few weeks after my conversion, the Holy Spirit began to remind me of some restitution I needed to make. I took care of it and breathed a sigh of relief, thinking it was over. But a week or so later He brought something else up. I took care of that and hoped that was all. A couple of weeks later He brought another item to my attention, they kept getting a little bit bigger, and a little harder to correct. Then one that I really did not want to do, I tried to figure out ways to get around it, it seemed just too hard to correct. A farmer I had pulled cotton for, often left us to weight our own sacks, I found it easy to add a few pounds to what I actually picked. I did that over a course of 2 or 3 years, and had no idea how much I cheated him. I did my best to put it off, to convince myself that it was not really the Spirit prompting me but to no avail. Finally I realized that I was about to grieve Him out of my life, so I borrowed Dad’s car and drove out to see the farmer. I confessed what I did and offered to pay him whatever he wanted. He would not take anything and said it was ok not to worry about it. I got the impression that he just wanted to get rid of me. It seemed to me like he remembered all the times he had done the same thing. I worked for him most of the next summer. What a relief after I had confessed, what a time of rejoicing as I went back to town as the Spirit witnessed with my spirit that I had done the right thing. After that I learned to not question the Holy Spirit when he prompted me to do something, I just did it.
The first really major experience with the Holy Spirit showing me what God’s will for my life was in my call to preach. He worked with me several months, I didn’t want to be a preacher but I soon came to the place where I was willing to be one. I just couldn’t believe God would want me to preach. When after his dealing with me many times a day for over 90 days I finally decided He was serious about me preaching. The moment I said “yes God I will preach” he dumped a huge load of peace and joy on me that was beyond description. What a time of rejoicing I had reveling in His peace and assurance that I was pleasing Him.
What I discovered was a fool proof method of knowing God’s will. It is simply being aware that you must make a decision, then making a tentative decision using guidelines mentioned earlier. If hours or days after you make it you still have peace in your heart about it, it must be God’s will. The reason it works is, only God can give peace, He is the author, the prince, the giver, the keeper of Peace. Satin cannot give any he doesn’t have any to give. Jesus said “peace I leave with you my peace I give you.” John 14:27
Before I understood this principal fully I made a few decisions that proved not to be God’s will. I can truthfully say that since becoming a Christian I have been in God’s will in my vocation, my education, the locations where I have lived, the churches I have pastured. He has never led me wrong. I didn’t always agreed with what he wanted, I didn’t want to go to a certain church, I didn’t want to leave several, but His will was always right. I am where He wants me right now and rejoicing in Him.
V
acations: They started out as 2 weeks a year, and finally advanced to 4 weeks. After about 15 years of pastoring, I realized that it was in my own, and the church’s best interest, not to miss Sundays. If I had 4 weeks of vacation, that meant I could miss 4 Sundays. It also meant I would have 24 working days off. So, if I took Monday and Tuesday off, since I was using one working day, because I got Monday off anyway, I put on my calendar- one day of vacation spent.

Often I would use only one Sunday a year for vacation. If, in any given week I took Friday and Saturday off to go hunting, I would work on Monday, and count only one day of vacation. I often did not use up all of my vacation in any one year. If I was taking a trip that was longer than one week, I would leave on Sunday night after church, or Monday morning, and return on Saturday. I would be gone 13 days, but only 11 of them were vacation, because I had one day a week off anyway. When relatives came to visit, I would save up a day off or two, so I could take them to see the sights.

Most of our vacations in the first years were spent visiting relatives. When we were in Nocona, we would leave Sunday night after church, and drive all night to get to Tucson in time for supper Monday. About the only thing Betty and I would say to each other was, “It’s your turn to drive”. We would leave Friday night and arrive back home Saturday afternoon, to be ready for Sunday. We would do that once in the summer and at Christmas. We would go to my folks for Thanksgiving, and since it could be made in a one- day trip, for other occasions. When we lived in Phoenix, we reversed that, leaving on Sunday night, going to Bethany, and returning Saturday evening.

When we started getting 3 weeks of vacation, we would go camping. Visiting relatives and camping was the only thing we could afford. We often camped with relatives or friends. Bone and Kate would come and perhaps

(LEFT) Paul and Eleanor Orndoff, Betty and myself. 1960.

Orndoffs. I first met Paul Orndoff when I went to college in 1951, and was with him in seminary. After we were in Nocona for a year, they moved to Bowie, Texas, 18 miles away. Paul had married Eleanor after seminary. We spent most of our days off together. There was a bowling alley in Bowie where you could get 3 games for a buck during the day. So, that was our recreation allowance blown each week. We would then go to each other’s house for lunch. After we moved to Phoenix, they came out a few times for vacation. After we moved to Oakdale, they moved to Wasco. We have been close friends for 58 years. 3 years ago I spoke at his funeral. Bone and Kate, Mom, Dad, and T Deloris also came and went camping with us a few times, and Bone and Kate many times.

Our first camping trip was in Phoenix. The above 5 came out, and on Monday we headed north to the Utah border, visited Lake Powell dam under construction, and on to Bryce and Zion Canyon National Parks. While camping in Zion along the Virgin River, a memorable event happened. The campground was in Zion canyon, which had high walls on both sides. During the day, the heat would go up canyon several miles, till it hit the box end. During the night, when it cooled off, it would come rushing back down the canyon in heavy gusts. We were camped besides a small canal that watered the campground. It had cottonwood trees growing along it. Near us was a large tree that had 5 trunks, each one about 18’ in diameter, from one root source.
At dawn, when the wind was the strongest, the wind toppled this tree. It fell with a loud noise that woke up everyone. Three of the trunks were on one side of us, and 2 on the other. We were surrounded on 3 sides by branches. Mom, Dad were on cots, T. Deloris, Bone and Kate were sleeping in a tent, and branches knocked it partially down. A small branch hit Dad. Dean hearing the sound, saw it falling, and pulled Trudy. A large branch came to rest where here head had been. Her head was hit as Dean was pulling her and she received a slight concession. Two inch brush rollers in her hair and Dean saved her. No one else was hit, and they were not seriously hurt. Since there was nothing we could do, we went back to our sleeping bags.

As soon as it was light, the Rangers arrived, sawed it up, and removed it. They questioned each of us as to what happened. They probably were afraid we would sue them. I got them to cut a thin cross section off for me, and I took it home as a souvenir. Later, on another camping trip near Payson Ariz., under a huge natural bridge (3 acres on top), I found an odd- shaped piece of driftwood in the creek. I took the slab from the fallen tree and used it for a base, and made a lamp out of the two. It is still in our living room.

One summer Orndoffs came out, and we went camping in the White Mountains east of Phoenix. The first night a big wind came up and we nearly froze. The next day we went to southern Arizona, ended up in Nogales, and camped at a lake. The next day was Sunday, and when I dressed for church, I discovered the back seam of my pants had been ripped out. There was no place to buy any, and we had no thread, so we went to church and sat on the back seat, with Betty walking behind me.


An organization in California provided a free camp for a week, with a tent and accessories, for pastors who would go to a State Park and hold services on Sunday. We did this about every summer. We went to King’s Canyon, Sequoia, Jedidiah Smith, Big Sur, Richardson Grove, and Lake Tahoe twice. Orndoffs had moved to Wasco, by Bakersfield, and they went to 4 or 5 of these with us. Bone and family went to at least 3.

I remember eating crab that we caught, in Crescent City, and wild blackberries at Jedidiah Smith. We were swimming in huge waves at Big Sur. I remember Kate sneaking up behind me, and pouring a pitcher of water on me while I was reading. Later, while on a hike, we came to a nice waterfall, and I just happened to stumble against Kate and pushed her under it. I remember hiking in Sequoia to King’s Canyon and Paul cutting his leg. We played “Capture the Flag” at Tahoe in the dark. What a memory, inner-tubing down the King’s river in freezing water at King’s Canyon.

LEFT (Kate, Bone, ¼ Blonde, Dean II)

Bone and family moved to Corvallis, Oregon, for a year, to work on his Master’s Degree. We vacationed with them on the coast, catching Dungeness crabs and playing on the beach. That same summer we climbed Half Dome together, with Beth, Cindy and Paul.

I think it was 1970, anyway, the year Bone and Kate were at Corvallis. They had come down to Oakdale. Dec. 30 we headed south, went to Disney Land, and New Year’s Eve went to Pasadena, where we camped out on the sidewalk on Colorado Blvd. We were going to have a ring-side seat for the Parade of Roses. We took along chairs, sleeping bags, probably air mattress, a camp stove, food etc. I remember cooking pancakes the next morning with people standing around looking on. During the evening, the place was thronged with people, walking, and dragging Colorado Blvd. About midnight all the normal people left, and motorcyclists and lowlifes took over. Betty and Kate said it was a scary thing. I was asleep through most of it. Ours and Bone’s kids were there and seemed to enjoy it. Beth‘s husban, Ken grew up just a few blocks from where we viewed the Parade, she and her kids have seen many more Parades since.
That same summer before he went home, they came to Oakdale, and we went to Yosemite in order to climb “Half Dome”. The first day, 9 of us (Jan stayed in Oakdale with Mary Frisk), climbed to the top of Vernal and Nevada falls. It was about ½ way of the 8 mile distance to the top. Kate renamed the trail to that point. We camped there through the night. Early the next day- Bone, Beth, who was 12, Cindy 10, Paul 8 and I, set out early for the top. The last 2 or 3 hundred yards is so steep you have to pull yourself up with cables. The cables were on a ridge that dropped 1 mile on one side and ¼ mile on the other. By the time we got back to the car the 2nd day, my calves were so sore I could hardly walk. The experience is tremendous. We did it later with the Orndoff’s, and got to the cables a 3rd time, but did not go up because of an electrical storm.
Our first vacation in Springfield, Mom, Trudy, Alex and Kenny came out and we went to Wisconsin, and camped at Wisconsin Dells, a very scenic place. Ken Freed came out to court Beth, and went with us also. Those 6 visited Chicago on the way back, seeing museums, including the King Tut exhibit which we had already seen.

In 1974 the district had a Sunday school promotion, with 5 pastors in each size division, and whoever had the biggest increase in attendance would get a free trip to the Holy Land. I decided it might as well be me. Since I always promoted the S.S. anyway, we were tooled up for it. We were in the big division, and we managed to win, by a small margin. It did not cost the district anything, because the tour company gave a free ticket for every 7 persons who paid. I paid for Betty, and Mom and Dad came out to go with us. Six others from our church went also. Israel is the only place I have ever been that I really wanted to go back to.

We saw all the sacred sites: Jerusalem, Mt. of Olives, Bethlehem, Masada, the Dead Sea, Jericho, Galilee, Caesarea, Philippi, Armageddon, Carmel, and Nazareth. While in Jerusalem I wanted to see where Hezekiah’s tunnel was. It started outside the city and went ¼ mile through the hill. It was to bring water into the city during a siege. It was dug from both ends. II Kings 20:20. So I got up at dawn, and Ben Friesen went with me. We walked around the top of the city wall, until we found the place. We cut back across the old city to our hotel. We began to hear a roar, a loud sound that I had no idea what it was. Soon we turned a corner, and there we were at the Wailing Wall. It was on a Saturday, the Jewish Sabbath, and the noise was- hundreds of black- robed Jews, praying out loud. We barely made it back in time to eat breakfast and continue on our tour.

We were in a restaurant on Mount Carmel, and someone came up behind me putting his hands on my shoulders, and began to talk with our group. It was Jerry Farwell, who was leading another group. We stayed in a kibbutz at Galilee, and swam in the sea. I baptized Betty and the D.S., and was baptized myself in the Jordan River. We saw where the Dead Sea Scrolls were found, rode the cable- car to the top of Masada, a castle and fortress Herod had built, and scads of other things. By a rough estimate -Betty talks about going on 29 “trips of a lifetime”. To me, this was the trip of a lifetime. I want to go back. I have information on my desk now about leading a group. Anybody want to go with me?

While in Springfield, we usually went to Colorado for vacations, and twice took the horses. Once in 1978 we were camped in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, where Ken asked me if he could marry Beth. Bone had brought his horses up as well. Mon and Aunt Birdie, Doyle and Jean, Bone and family, Trudy and family, Hurk and family, and Ron a friend of Ken were there. Twenty five people seven horses, and three dogs. We would ride the horses around the mountains, and come back to the same camp every night, where the vehicles were.

One year Bone and our families, except Beth, took our horses, and some he borrowed, high into the Rocky Mountains. We had 10 people and 10 horses, and were gone for 10 days. We packed 2 horses, and some of the kid’s rode double. We went over the Continental Divide during a snow shower, and could not stop to get coats because the trail had a cliff on one side, and a canyon on the other. We would camp at a different place every night, and we found a camp that had a hot springs. It was a great place to soak and bathe. We stayed there 3 nights. It was a great trip. I think some of the kids think of it as a highlight in their life.

On the last night out, we camped about 3 miles from the trailhead, where some friends of Bone were going to meet us with horse trailers, at noon the next day. Towards evening, two of Bones’ horses wandered down the trail, along with a 3 month old filly, the filly belonged to another mare that was tethered. When they didn’t come back by dark, we decided that we had better go get them. Besides that, the mare was going crazy for her baby. We got on Rinda and Gent, and soon it was dark. Then the moon went behind a mountain, and it was pitch-dark. I could not even see Cinder walking in front of me. The trail went beside a creek, and we could hear it, but could not see anything. The flashlight we had with us, had been dropped, and we didn’t know it. At last, almost to the trail- head, we found them. They were coming back. We depended entirely on the horses to find the way. After an hour or so, I could not hear the creek any more. Rinda stopped, and Bone asked me if I knew where we were. I said, “I think we are lost”. Just then, Betty turned on a flashlight. Rinda had stopped 3 feet from my tent!

We went to Lake Powell, a super beautiful lake with red sandstone cliffs, hundreds of feet high, in northern Arizona and southern Utah, (it is on the Colorado River). We went there for 4 vacations. One was for 4 days, while we still lived in Phoenix. We were with some church members who had a boat. We went 3 times while we lived in Springfield. I had bought a boat, and Ken and Beth were with us that summer, so they went with us on their way back to Yuma where they were teaching. He also bought a small boat, and sold it when they got to Yuma.

We camped out of the boats, exploring part of the 182 mile long lake, with its 2000 mile shore line. We went up narrow canyons and visited the Rainbow Bridge, a big natural sandstone bridge, 2 or 3 hundred feet across. We went up a tributary canyon, with straight up and down sandstone walls several hundred feet high, for a couple of miles. Then we hiked up the canyon that was a couple of miles long, and had walls a 100’ tall or so.

There was a herd of wild horses in it, and seemingly no way out, that we could see. Beth had her cat, because they were on their way to Yuma. One camp, which was a large beech under a huge overhang of a sandstone cliff, was a favorite. We stayed there 2 or 3 days, exploring Escalante river tributaries. When we got ready to leave, the cat was in a jumble of rocks, and would not come out, except at night. So we left and went to the next camp. Then Beth and I went back after the cat. We got her, but darkness overtook us and there was no moon. We had about 10 miles to get back to camp. It was a wonder we made it back. If a fire had not been burning where we camped, we would have gone right pass the canyon, in which we were camped at the end. Jill went with us, Paul’s girlfriend.

A couple of years later, mom, my brothers Doyle and Dean and their families, rented a big houseboat. We cruised the lake for a week. We were parked up a tributary, across the mountain from where the wild horses were. Beth, Paul and I decided to hike over the mountain and see if we could see the horses. We found the head of the canyon and about a 100’ waterfall, when the water was running. At the bottom of it was a big pool of water. All of the rest of the creek was dry, as it was summer and 90+ degrees. We figured out how we could get down to it with the aid of a rope, and Paul’s rock- climbing ability. We got down and had a nice cooling swim. To get out, Paul would climb up, lower the rope and pull Cinder, Beth and me up. We did not see the horses though, but saw where they came for water.

This last time I went to Lake Powell, Doyle, Bone and I and families, took boats and my 2 horses. We found a spring across the lake with a good camping place. We stayed there several days. Every morning just before dawn, a pack of coyote pups that lived nearby, began their howling lessons. I have never heard such sounds before or since. I don’t know how to describe it, it was so weird.

Cindy and I drove the horses about 100 miles around, and then rode them the last 25 miles back to the camp. While we were exploring, we went back to the wild- horse canyon. We hiked in it again, and we found the place where the horses got in to the canyon for water. At the mouth of the canyon we found a good camping place, and decided to move our camp there. It would mean riding the horses over the mountain, from where we had hiked to it before. Then we had to find the place where the wild horses went down, and go down canyon to the new camp.

Cindy and I left early with a big lunch, planning to meet the rest at the new camp that night. They had gone around with the boats, (about 25 miles). The mountain was 95% rock, and 5% sand. Before we left Springfield with the horses, I had them shoed with cleats on the bottom of the shoes about 3/8’’. It was quite a task, getting up the mountain, and having to back track several times. We didn’t go any place that we could not come back on.

Once, after a long climb, we hit a dead end. I searched it several times trying to find a way up, knowing if we had to back track, we would not have time to go on. There was a slanting spur of rock about 3’ across, curling up, and went to the next level up, about 20’. I finally decided we could go up that, leading the horses. We made it ok. We finally got to the edge of the canyon where we were to go down, just at dark. Only we discovered that there was a ledge and another cliff that we had to get down. We could see the wild horse- trail leading up from the water, and going along the ledge. By now it was dark, and we could not search for it till morning.

We unsaddled the horses, ate some left- over lunch, laid down on the horse blankets with saddles for a pillow, and slept ‘till day light. We only had on T-shirts and jeans, not expecting to be out overnight. We got a little chilly before morning. We ate some more left-over lunch, and then started searching for a way down to the next level. We followed along the rim, keeping in sight the horse trail below. We knew that if we could get to it, we would make it. We rode till noon and finally got to the lake, but still no way to get down to the next ledge where the horse trail was. There we could look down on where we were going to camp. We were on top of the cliff, laying down looking over, probably 7 or 8 hundred feet down.

Sure enough, there was a boat there that looked like ours, and we thought it was. We finally got their attention, and discovered it was somebody else. We could talk, but say only one word at a time, because of the echo. We told them to tell our people, if they saw them, that we were going back to our original camp. Actually, Bone, Beth, etc. had come the previous day to meet us. When we did not show up, they hiked up the canyon and found the problem of the second cliff.

The second day, Beth and Ken came again, to see if by any chance we made it. As they were nearly there, a boat in distress waved them down. They were out of gas, and were miles from a supply. They helped them, and as they were leaving, the gal asked if they were Horton’s. Then they gave them our message.

Meanwhile Cindy and I headed back, but we were now many miles from our original camp. We had brought a plastic bucket alone to water the horses. There were some holes in the rock that had caught rain water, but the horses could not reach it, so the bucket was used to help them. We found a couple of places and watered throughout the day. By nightfall we had just reached the top of the mountain, and we had to follow our tracks, if we could, so we could find the way back down.

They had packed us so much lunch that we still had some food. Again we slept on the horse blankets. For several hours before we stopped, I had been smelling a terrible stench, and we could not get away from it. This was in August and the temperature during the day was around 100 degrees. We had been riding the horses from sunup till sundown for two days. We discovered what the smell was, when we took the blankets off. The bottom sweat blanket was soaking wet with sweat, and two days of accumulated horse sweat was more scent than we wanted. We moved them off, spread out to dry out, and went to sleep on the other blanket.

About midnight I awoke to the sound of thunder and saw lightning. I woke Cindy and we started hunting shelter. Before we found any the thunderstorm hit us. We finally found a pinion tree that would protect us, but we were soaking wet and cold. Fortunately, there was a dead tree beside it. We got some dead wood, and I found gopher matches in a little pack I carried on the saddle horn. Unfortunately, it got wet with sweat, and the matches would not work. Finally we were down to the last match and no fire. We were very uncomfortable now. I paused, had a little prayer meeting, and tried it. It worked and got a fire started. It was a big one, and we finally dried off, and the rain had passed on.

So we went to sleep by the fire. At dawn, another thunderstorm woke us. We built up the fire, and stayed warm and dry this time. We ate some more lunch, (all that was for the one meal), that now was lasting into the 3rd day. We saddled up and started along the top of the ridge, to find our way down. The horses had not eaten in 2 days, as there was very little graze where we tethered them. So we rode, and let them eat whenever we came across a turf of grass. After we started down, we hit a place where we could not proceed. The problem was, I could see our tracks in a bit of sand, and could see them on the ledge below where we had been. But I could not figure out how we got up.

I started checking for scuff marks on the rocks, and I found some. But it was on a slope that I didn’t think we could get down. Then I remembered that spiral- like staircase (but without steps) that we came up. I inspected it closer, and finally decided we could make it. I took the tether rope, and got about 15’ in front of Rinda. So, if she slipped, I would have a chance to get out of her way. She came down as if “it was a piece of cake”, and so did Gent.

About 2 P.M. we got to the bottom, and the rest of the crew heard the horse hoofs on the rock. They had come to meet us, as they were beginning to be worried. We were two days late. I checked the 3/8 cleats on the horse shoes, and they were completely worn off. A few days later, we were camped in Capitol Reef National Park. In talking to a ranger, I asked him if there were any trails over that mountain. He said, “No. There was no way you could ride a horse over it.” I pointed to Cindy, and told him that we did!

In 1964, the General Assembly was in Portland. We took the 3 kids to Bethany, and left them with Grandma. We got back to Phoenix on Saturday. Orndoffs came out, and on Monday we left for the General Assembly, by way of Sequoia and Yosemite National Parks. We stayed with a preacher friends in Bakersfield, and camped out the rest of the time. In Portland, we stayed with an aunt of Eleanor that she had never met. We slept on the floor.

After the Assembly we went to Seattle, and visited with Bob, (Betty’s brother), and then on north to Vancouver, Canada. Then we went east on the Trans-Canada highway to Calgary. We went through Banff and Glacier National Park to Salt Lake City, and on to Pueblo, where Mom and Trudy had brought the kids. It was quite a trip!

In 1972 the General Assembly was in Miami, Florida. Incidentally, I have attended 14 General Assemblies. The first was in Oklahoma City in 1940, while we lived there. I was 8 years old. The next time was in 1952, in Kansas City. This was while Don was in seminary. Since 1960, Betty and I have attended every one of them, including- Kansas City, (several times) Portland, Dallas, Anaheim, Indianapolis, (3 times). In 2009, it will be in Orlando Florida. Perhaps we will attend it.

In 1972 I was a NYI delegate, so we arranged to take our vacation at the same time. Remember I always liked to travel, so we were going to see the east coast, and be in as many states as we could. We left Oakdale and went to Tucson, visited with the Conns, and on to Oklahoma City. We left Jan there with Mon Dad, Trudy and Kenny (she was 3 years old), and went south to Louisiana, and then east through Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, and on to Florida. We got in on the edge of a hurricane there.

After the Assembly, we started northeast, stopping in Virginia to visit Carolyn, Betty’s sister. Then we hit the eastern and New England states, and finally headed west, after putting our foot in Maine. We camped out at night. We toured Philadelphia, Washington D.C., New York, Niagara Falls, and drove into Canada. On to Detroit, and we saw lots of stuff. We finally picked up Jan, then on to Pueblo to see Bone, and home through Utah and Nevada. We had been in 32 states.

In February, 1992, Betty and I met her brother Bob and Jennie in L.A., and went to Hawaii for 10 days. We had not spent any time with Bob since seminary. We toured the big island and Oahu, renting a car and doing all the tourist things, such as swimming, snorkeling, and sightseeing. One of the best things was a helicopter ride to tall waterfalls. We went to one of my old friends’ church, and had a great time! I have the pictures to prove it.

I did some back-packing while in Oakdale. One summer Betty agreed to go backpacking. I took along a borrowed donkey to pack our food etc., so Betty would not have to carry a pack. We went to the east slope of the Sierras, in to some high, most beautiful lakes. Jan, being still a toddler, stayed with Mary Frisk. After 3 days of exploring high lakes, Beth Cindy and I decided to hike a distance on the Pacific Crest Trail. Paul stayed with Betty. We intended to be gone all day. After about an hour, because the wind was blowing so fierce, we decided to go back.

Meanwhile Betty and Paul had gone a ¼ mile to a meadow, so the donkey could graze. Betty had lain down on a blanket by the creek reading, when the donkey came up and bit her on the back of the neck. Fortunately, we got back about 5 minutes later. When we had picked the donkey up, the veterinarian was there, giving it some kind of shot. We found out later that he was supposed to have been quarantined after the shot. It evidently affected his brain, because he was hard to deal with, even jumping out of the trailer on the way home. It was obvious that she needed stitches, so we broke camp, loaded the donkey, and headed out. Soon her neck was as big as her head. By dark we had reached the closest town and found a doctor.

H
orse- packing trips: After getting horses in Oakdale, back- packing was over, and horse trips were on. Hunting with the horses and just horse packing-camping began. I covered a lot of Sierra trails in California. And I did many more when we came back in 1997. In Eureka, I did mostly day trips, sometimes riding all day in the rain. When I came back to Oakdale in ‘97 I had 3 grandkids old enough to take. So, we began at least a 2 day trip every year, and to a different place. After a year or so, Arch was old enough to go. Finally I talked Beth into going to Lake Eleanor, with 1 year old Caboose and Sweet Pea. That started a tradition, and the next year Cindy came down with Nubbin and Prof. The next year Jan and Norm came with Ava and Kate. The next time Paul, Jill, and Hap came. We have done it 7 years now. We stay 3 or 4 days. We always go to Lake Eleanor, since it is fairly close, all but the younger kids have to walk. It takes 2 or 3 trips to pack everything in, but it is a lot of fun. We all sleep in a row, no tents. They do lots of swimming, etc. I cook pancakes every morning. The good part is, the grandkids know how to pack and load the horses. I just ride along.

In Alaska most of the horse- packing was in connection with hunting. You could ride in, but if you got game, the horses packed it out and you walked. I did some horse camping, My Doctor, Louis Mayer, had a cabin on a lake you could only get to by float plane. He kept bugging me to see if we could get there by horses. Since he treated me for nothing, I finally got around to taking him. His cabin was just beneath a tall mountain. You could see the peak of it across the valley from the road, 25 miles away.

We left early on Memorial Day, drove the 200 or so miles to the Denali highway, where you could see the peak. In between, was a lot of swamp, a river and glacier moraine. We were saddled up, and on Gent and Rinda by 2 pm. We used Nugget as a pack horse. We hadn’t gone far, when Rinda got stuck in a swamp. I had to get off, to get her out. Later we hit a real big swamp. I finally found an old beaver dam on which I thought we could get across. The last 3’ of it was washed out, but I got Rinda and Nugget over. When Gent jumped over, the bank caved off and the Doc and Gent went over backwards in 3’ of just melted snow water. The Doc was pinned under Gent, with just his head sticking out of the water.

Gent could not get up, because of the mud. I got a rope on Gent, and with Rinda’s help got him off of the Doc. Then Gent could not get out. In a bit, he gave up trying, and just lay there with his head and back barely out of the water. I got a long limb, and started hitting him on the rump. He started struggling again, and managed to get out on the right side. We got a fire going, and the Doc changed clothes. Then we hit the river, but its bottom was just like the beaver pond. So we went down it about a mile, and found a place with a rocky bottom, and got across. Then we hit the glacier moraine. Moraine is the end of a glacier, and when it melts, it leaves huge piles of rock. It’s just a maze, with no pattern to it.

We lucked out and found a way through it, after about a mile, and then went across- about a 5 mile slope with heavy brush on it. Walking in it would have been miserable, but the horses with 4 tall legs could do it fairly easy. About 10:00 pm, we stopped to camp for the night, and discovered the Doc forgot to put the tent in the pack. It was still too cold to sleep out, so we just went on. Finally about 1:00 A.M., we got over the mountain and to his cabin. A big porcupine was under his house, chewing on a support.We got rid of him, and into beds.

Wednesday morning early, we headed back. At the top of the mountain, I found a patch of snow with our horse prints in it. I quit guiding Rinda, to see if she could find her way back to the pickup. She did. The trail was 2 days old, and she could still smell the way we came. On the tundra you could not see our hoof prints, unless there was mud or snow, which was not often. But every now and then I saw a print. When we got on the moraine, Rinda stopped at the edge of a cliff. I could see down below a snow bank with our trail in it. I could see how we could get down, on our left. She stood there about 20 seconds, then turned around and went back about 50 feet, and turned right. Sure enough, there was our trail. When we got to the beaver dam, we went around it another way.

Now I understood how, when Bone and I was riding in the darkest night in Colorado, Rinda was able to take us straight to my tent. The only way I can figure out how she led us back on that 25 mile cross- country trip, was by smell. I have discovered since, that Nugget and Aurora can do it as well. Anyway, it was quite an adventure. The Doc is still a friend, even though I nearly drowned him. He called me a couple years ago.

In 2001, we took the”rest home”, and headed north. Our goal was the General Assembly in Indianapolis. We went to Boise, where Cindy met us at Jan’s house, and (see LEFT) Vickie and Bobby joined us. After a couple of days, Frisks and us, continued east, sightseeing in Idaho, and on to Yellowstone National Park. We spent 3 days there, and got snowed on in June. Then Betty and I went north to Montana, then east again on Interstate 90. Sunday morning we got up at dawn, and drove till about 9. We stopped in a small town, Medora N. Dakota, to fix breakfast and get ready for church. We had stopped in a park that said it was Teddy Roosevelt state park. Across the street was the Teddy Roosevelt National Park. We didn’t even know there was such a park. Teddy Roosevelt had lived there, ranching and hunting, before being a “Rough Rider”.

While we were eating breakfast, we saw numerous cars, with dressed up people inside, going in to the park. Upon inquiry, we learned that it was the day for the annual unified church service of the town. So we went, and it was in a big amphitheater in the park. A Catholic bishop preached a really good sermon, and a great grandson of Teddy made some comments. By 6 P.M we were in Jamestown, N. Dakota and went to church with some friends we had made in Alaska. North Dakota completed 50 states for us being in. We continued east to Indiana, and visited with Betty’s aunt Georgia, and on to the Assembly.

In 2005, we headed to the General Assembly, again in Indianapolis. Then time we went to Oklahoma, then south, and visited my sister- in- law Marie, and nephew, Ken Horton. They live in Grand Saline, Texas. Then we went east, eating southern food, and on to Tennessee. We visited Aunt Birdie, then 94 years old, and Hurk in Kentucky, Mammoth Caverns Nat. Park in Ky., then on to the Assembly.

T
ravel in general: Somehow I always liked to travel, and did so at every opportunity. Maybe it has something to do with my liking history so much. Every time we moved to a new town, the first thing I would do, was to go to the library and get history books about the place. I often knew more about where I lived, than people who lived there all their lives. I don’t know how God planned it, but I sure liked living in 5 different states where we pastored, and on 6 different districts. It was fun living in about every kind of geographic place you can image. Prairies, plains, deserts, fertile farm- land, foothills, coastal, tundra, and with Mountains nearby in Phoenix, Oakdale, Eureka and Alaska.

A lot of our vacations were planned to go someplace we had not been before. I guess that accounts for Betty and I having been in 50 states, 23 countries, and on 6 continents. I hope to do more. We liked to camp, and travel with friends and relatives when we could. So- Bone, Orndoffs and Vickie and Bobbie, often went with us.

There are 64 National Parks. We have been in 44 of them, over the years. Since we only live 2 hours from Yosemite Nat. Park, we have been there numerous times, and camped in it, probably over 50 times. As far as state parks, there are too many to count. We have camped in many of the ones we have visited. Historical sites especially attract my attention.

March of 2000 prior to retiring in Nov. We bought a 1996 5th wheel RV. It was almost identical to Bone’s. We had planned a vacation to Okla. And Ky. To visit relatives in May. We would meet Bone and Kate in Okla. And Trudy would continue with us. Prior to this in April we took it took it a State Park on the Merced River not too far away to get use to it and be sure we understood how to set it up etc. Vickie went with us. The park did not have any RV parking places so the ranger told us to park anywhere we wanted to in the big parking lot. I picked out a nice shady spot beside a hugh oak tree and put out the slides, (bedroom and living room). About an hour later walking around the park, for some reason I decided to move it across the lot and did so. We were inside taking a nap, when suddenly a loud cracking noise and crash was heard. Jumping up to see what was going on we discovered the hugh oak tree we had parked beside earlier had fell right on the spot where we had previous parked and where we would have been napping. It would have crushed the RV and perhaps us and damaged out Dodge Diesel. Call it coincidence if you want to, I call it God’s Holy Spirit prompting me to move it.

I named the 5th Wheel “The Rest Home”, it is a faithful RV, it has followed my ¾ ton diesel 80.306 miles and we have slept in it 702 nights. I guess since we don’t use it very much I ought to sell it. It has been all over the U S except the east coast, much of it several times.

Cruises: In 2004, Bone and Kate decided to take an Alaska cruise with some friends from Oregon. They invited us to go. Since I had always wanted to go to Alaska, and always wanted to take a cruise, we signed up also. Cindy and family, and Vickie and Bobby, ended up going with us as well. Two weeks before we left, Bone got too sick to go. As soon as it was over, we drove the” rest home” straight to Pueblo. Bone died 2 weeks later.

The cruise was enough to addict me. So I began to figure how to do it again. The kids solved that problem at the 50th Anniversary. They gave us a cruise to anywhere we wanted to go. In November we flew to Rome, got on the Royal Princess, went north to Portofino, Italy, the next day to Monte Carlo, Monaco, then to Barcelona Spain. Then on we went to Gibraltar, after a day at sea. The next spots were the Canary Islands, Dakar, and Senegal Africa, after 2 days at sea. So, on we sailed west four days at sea to Fortaleza Brazil, then north two days at sea French Guiana, On north 2 more days at sea to Dominica, then on to St. Bartholomew. Our trip was completed after 2 more days at sea, landing in Fort Lauderdale. The trip was 24 days on board ship, covering 3 continents, plus North America. We toured at every port named above.

We made a lot of friends we will never see again, ate a lot of steak and lobster, won 3 ping- pong tournaments, and came in 2nd on 4 more. We read a lot of books, and I attended a lot of computer classes and lectures on places where we were going. I became thoroughly spoiled to living on a ship.

We went swimming in the Caribbean on a nude beach, but only saw 3 topless women, and 25 topless men. I think the kids ought to do it again for our 52nd anniversary. In May of this year, we went to San Diego for Meg’s spring concert. It was on Friday night, and 8 days later she would graduate Suma Cum Laude. I didn’t want to drive twice. So, on Monday we got on a cruise ship, went to Catalina Island and somewhere in Mexico, (a place I can’t spell), and got back 4 days later. I won the ping- pong tournament, and a had a relaxing great time. Since we bought our tickets just a week before it left, we got it 75% off. We were staying with the Springstons, who are related to one of our members, Winston and Gwen Terrell. We took them down to visit with their daughter. They and their daughter, Nancy, ended up going along. We should do it again soon. For some reason Betty thinks we should stay at home.

M
ission Experiences: We always believed in and supported world missions. We entertained and had as many missionaries as we could get, and generally gave them good offerings. We made many missionary friends through the years. The first missionary we had in Nocona was Evelyn Verhouk, from Guatemala. Bill Porter from Puerto Rico was another. They remained friends for years. Bill was a very good French- horn player. The first chance we got to participate in missions was in Phoenix. There was an Indian Mission District in the southwest, including Arizona. A couple of times, from Paradise Valley, the teens would gather used clothing. We would rent a trailer, and take the teens up to the Navajo Reservation. Then we would deliver them to a pastor, participate in a service, and I would preach. We also did this a couple of times from Oakdale, visiting the Grand Canyon and Monument Valley on the Navajo Reservation on the way.

In 1973 Rev. Charles Crouch, pastor at Kingsburg, organized a teen trip to Mexico City, where his daughter Evelyn was a missionary. We took several teens, and along with a van, and another pastor, the 3 vehicles drove to Mexico City. We entered Mexico at Nogales and headed south. Every night we stopped at a Nazarene Church, and I preached, and the teens sang some song in Spanish they had learned. We slept in the church on the floor. It took us at least 5 days to get there.

After the church service at Mazatlan, we went swimming in the ocean under a full moon. We ate cereal with water for breakfast, and mostly ate food that we brought with us. One place where we stopped, the pastor had saved up money, and had purchased a coke for everyone. We were in Mexico City for at least a week. We visited the pyramids, museums, an opera- type theater, the ancient church of Guadalupe, and painted the 9th Church of the Nazarene (blue). I preached several times.

The traffic in Mexico City was the worse I have ever seen, even worse than Jerusalem. In driving in the city, I was always the 3rd car, and had to keep up with the other 2, or get lost. I drove with one hand on the wheel, one on the horn, one foot on the brake and one on the gas. The kids started giving points for cutting other vehicles off. I would get 1 for a car, 3 for a bus, and 5 for a taxi. I won; otherwise we would probably still be lost there. They had lots of gloriettas there, a circle at the junction of 2 or more streets. You would go around the circle to the street you wanted, and the trick was to get into the outside lane, so you could turn. Sometimes there were 3 lanes, and you might enter in the inside lane and have to move to the outside lane in heavy traffic. I never want to drive there again. We did the same things on the way home- having a service at night, and staying in the church. In San Luis Potosi, my 3 kids pooled their money, and I bought a saddle. We used it till a few years ago. When I got out without a scratch on my ‘72 ford station wagon, I decided I never again would drive a car in Mexico.

Puerto Rico: While in Springfield, the district had a Work and Witness trip to San Juan, and I went along. We did a major repair job on one church, and helped fix several others. We went deep sea fishing one day. I was in a boat with 3 other preachers, and we would take turns reeling in the fish as we trolled. I caught a large dolphin fish, very beautiful and excellent eating. It fed the whole crew that night. Just after I caught it, Mike Ice caught a 14’ 400lb. blue marlin. It was the biggest caught that season in San Juan to that date. It took him 30 minutes to reel it in. After the crew got it in the boat, the 3 of them went wild with celebration. The fine print on the contract said they got to keep the meat. It was worth $2.00 a lb.

Uganda, Africa: In June, 2002, our district sent a Work and Witness team to Uganda. Bobby and Vickie Frisk, Richard and Debbie Gilton, Betty and I, and Meg, were on the team. These 7 people also went to Australia together. And in January,’ 09 these are going to Dominica, with Arch in place of Meg, along with 11 others. We arrived at the famous airport, Entebbe (of Israel hostage and rescue fame), and the Boeing 707 was still sitting there. Our destination was Jinja, on the north shore of Lake Victoria, beside the mouth of the White Nile River.

Our project was building an office classroom building for the district. It was beside the Jinja church and school. Everything there is made of homemade brick, about 4” X 10” X 3”. The brick walls would then be covered with plaster, inside and out. Families make a business out of making bricks. They mold them, and when dry, stack them into a round furnace- like structure, and then build a big fire inside to cure them. If you drive at night, about every mile or 2 you can see the fires of these unique brick kilns. When we arrived, some natives had the walls started about 1’ high. So the job was primarily the laying of bricks, building the walls, making and installing trusses. Meg made friends with some young bucks, and they taught her how to lay bricks. They mixed the mortar by making a pile of sand on the ground, putting cement on it, making a hole in the top of it, and then mixing it with a hoe and shovel, adding more water as needed.

I took on the job of building the trusses, with one or two helpers. The wood for the trusses came from a native hardwood tree, which was cut down just the week before. It was a large tree, about 3’ diameter, cut into 14’ sections. Then with just a chain saw, they cut out beams of about 12’X12’, loaded these on to the truck, and moved them to the building site. When I told them what size lumber I needed, the guy would cut it. It was mainly 2”X6”s and 2”X4”. He would dip a string into a can of used motor oil, and stretch it on his mark, and flip it, marking where he would saw with his old chain saw. He had to work on it every morning to get it to work.

He would leave the ends attached until he was finished, and then cut them, at which time it would start bowing. It was so green that when you drove a nail in, it would splash on you! Sometimes I had to get someone to pull it straight before I could nail them. The trusses were about 23’ long, so had to be joined together with a 3rd piece. Sometimes that joint was 2” thick on one piece, and 3” thick on the other. Anyway, when we erected them, and the roof was on, it looked as straight as any other roof. I also installed the windows, which were locally made, but made of cured planed wood.

While there we had 2 remarkable adventures. One was a trip to a national park several hours away, where we stayed at a resort- kind of place in cabins with thatch roofs, and mesquite netting over the beds. There were big wart hogs, and they would lie outside the door and other shade. They are very ugly. The food was excellent, and it was a beautiful place. We toured the park, and saw lots of elephants, water buffalos, antelope and deer- type animal of many species, monkeys, baboons, hyenas, zebras, eagles, buzzards, etc. We took a boat tour, saw crocodiles, scads of hippopotamus and babies, and lots of water birds. We looked for lions, but they stayed hidden.

We also attended a nearby church of the Nazarene. The seats were benches, but only about 10” high. I finally had to stand. The place was packed out. The only music instrument was one drum. The singing was lively and it was very loud, with hand clapping and body movements along with it. The congregation had fixed lunch for us. It was native food, served on banana leaves and eaten with the fingers. We would roll up a ball of rice and dip it in a stew. The bowl was ½ of a gourd. We also had fried bananas, and other stuff.

The other event happened because we had to wait a day for the natives to finish the bond beam on the building, (a 12’x12’ cement beam with rebar in it). It went all the way around the building above the doors. The Nile river has it source at Jinja. It is the only outlet of Lake Victoria, (the 2nd largest fresh water lake in the world). The lake’s only outlet becomes the Nile. At its beginning, it is as wide as the Mississippi at St Louis. It started out as a big water
Me- making trusses in Africa, with Vickie helping in back. fall, but that is now

covered up by a Hydro- electric plant. The first 20 or 30 miles or so, has a lot of rapids and small falls on it. There were several class- five rapids, so rafting is a business. About 12 of us went rafting. We went over 3 class-five, 2 class- four and several class- three rapids. We turned over twice, but the water was warm, clean, and deep.

The first time we flipped, I began to wonder if I would ever come up, as I was tumbled along. We saw scads of water fowl, including giant bats. The lush green jungle on each side offered many beautiful scenes. Everywhere that a person could reach the river, there were women with kids washing clothes. I saw one topless woman with breasts so large and long, I thought she had 4 arms. It was an all- day trip, and at the end we had one of the best meals we had there. It was really a memorable experience.

On the way home, we toured London for 2 days, and saw most of the sights there. I bought 2 suits there, which I am still wearing.

Australia: October 2004, the 7 of us that went to Africa, were on our way to Brisbane, Australia, by way of New Zealand. We were going to the Nazarene Theology College, to start work on a Chapel. There were 35 others from Turlock. For some reason they were not ready to start the chapel, so we did many repair jobs, plus made hundreds of cement building blocks. I made a lot of wood forms to mold the blocks in, and overhauled study desks in the library. The writing surface was so rough that the students would not use them. Others remodeled the kitchen from top to bottom, and others did extensive repairs to the sewer system.

But the biggest project, was the making of blocks. Meg mostly worked on them. They would mold as many as they could during the day, and then let them dry overnight. The next morning they would load them on a trailer and haul to the storage yard, so they would have room to mold more. I was working nearby and they finished loading the trailer. Two of the older guys were wiping sweat, and one said to the other, “Now we can rest a minute”, while some took them to unload. The other guy said “No, we can’t, Meg went with them”, meaning that she would work so fast, they would not have time to rest.

We visited the best aquarium I have ever seen at Mooloolaba, Queensland, and Crocodile Gandy’s zoo. They were good, and saw other tourist interests. Betty and I stayed with a retired missionary couple who had served in New Guinea. They were Australians. Every morning, several wallabies, (looks like a kangaroo, but smaller), would show up outside our bedroom window for a handout. One day while I was lecturing in the college to ministerial students, I looked out the window from the 2nd floor and saw, in the tall Eucalyptus trees, a Koala Bear. I would like to see more of Australia.

Bolivia: In October of 2006, Spark, Betty and I went with Larry Webb, a retired missionary, and 7 others to Cochabamba, Bolivia. It was 8,000’ elevation. We were to help finish building a church that other Work and Witness teams had worked on. We painted the interior, lots of other stuff, and we were there for the dedication. We visited 7 other Nazarene churches. I preached in one, and went to prayer meeting in another. One of the highlights there was visiting the world’s largest statue of Christ. It was on the top of a mountain on the edge of the city. It is over 100’ tall with His arms outstretched, as if to invite the city to come to Him. You see it from anyplace in the huge city of 5 million people. But up close, it was overwhelming. I have a small model of it in my office, to remind me the Christos of Cochabamba.

On our way home, we flew to Trinidad, in the Amazon basin, elevation about 300. We arrived after dark. At the airport parking lot I saw an old flatbed jeep- type vehicle, and thought, “Wow, what an ancient rattle- trap that was.” Soon our leader showed up, and told some of us to get in it. The others went in another old car. Four people could sit in the back, and one with the driver. We drove about 8 miles, and then turned off into the dark jungle. With the headlights, we could see huge trees and vines crowding the road. And we soon came to a creek, where the bridge was 4 pipes with some boards laid across them. I marveled that we got across it.

After 2 or 3 miles we came to a small bunch of thatch-covered buildings. The humidity was 100 plus, the temperature was in the 90’s, and mosquitoes were everywhere. We went into a screened- off porch and sat down to a native meal of jungle food. It wasn’t bad. It was fried bananas, rice, and who knows what else. Since it was still early, we walked down to a lagoon, and 3 or 4 got into small boats at a time, with a couple of natives in charge. Paddling out to some reeds, you could soon see bright eyes shining, when the flashlight hit them. If the eyes were not too far apart, the native would reach down and lift into the boat, a 3’ alligator. We put several in a sack, and turned them loose in a building. The next day we could see them, and finally turned them loose.

We rented a larger boat, and went down the river about 10 miles, to a major tributary of the Amazon. It was a very large river. We had a picnic on a huge beach, and some went swimming, and played soccer with the native people. Along the river, you would see every now or then, 2 or 3 dugout canoes. On the bank above them would be some thatch-hut dwellings. When we saw people, we stopped, and gave them hygiene kits that we brought along. One place we stopped, and climbed up to the houses, and were given a tour. We watched them run a sugar- cane press, and shred yucca roots to make bread- like food. It was just like pictures we had seen of missionary work along the river. We slept in a thatch-roofed cabin, with the windows shut, because of the mosquitoes. It was so hot and humid that we slept naked, without a sheet over us. At dawn, we were up and out to see the wild parrots that nested nearby, and many other birds. Their singing made the Tiki Tiki room at Disney seem amateurish. It was a miserable time because of the heat, humidity, and mosquitoes, but at the same time, was one of the best times. I would do again if I could. We went into town to catch a bus to Santa Cruz, and were amazed at the motorcycle traffic. There were probably 10 motorcycles to every car. We rode all night in a big fancy bus to Santa Cruz to catch our plane home. During the night we made a restroom stop. I won’t even try to describe the deplorable conditions in that small town.

Dominica: In the Caribbean. In January our church is sending 20 of us to Dominica to build a small group classroom on a camp ground that will serve the whole Caribbean, for a training place. It overlooks the (Right, Martin, a great layman and me in the Church in Carib Territory)
ocean, and is a most beautiful place. Arch is going along as well. I am the coordinator, and the inspiration behind it.

We are back from Dominica Work and Witness, it was a great trip and successful in every way. Twenty went, 13 from Oakdale Family Church, Arch, Carolyn French, a former children’s pastor at Oakdale, 3 from Modesto, and Keith and Rita Wright from Alaska. We completed the project we went for, building a small group meeting place, plus did more work on the rest of the campground than we did on building the Gazebo. We had significant spiritual impact with preaching, altar call, youth and children’s meetings, and personal interaction with the natives. Two days of sightseeing, and a harmonious trip even if it was very tiring.
H
unting experiences: When I was a paper boy, I won a 22 bolt action rifle. So I hunted big game in Okla.- prairie dogs, rabbits, and squirrels. I also killed a lot of cans and bottles. There were nothing to hunt in Nocona but rabbits, and I went with some teens a few times. In every church there are hunters, and if you are going to relate to them, you must hunt with them. In Alaska one of the men who was a regular attendee, would not let me get close to him. I was just a preacher. But when I got my first moose, I became an outdoorsman in his sight, and we then became friends. My first serious hunting started in Phoenix, where one of my members belonged to NRA. He said that he could get me a 30-0-6 for $12 from army surplus. He did, and I modified the stock on it, and have used it since. Later I put a $350. Scope on it. In Phoenix I was founder and president of the “Greater Phoenix Ministerial, Fishing and Hunting Association”. There were 4 of us! During hunting season, we were usually out in the desert. I bagged mule deer, javelina, quail and rattlesnakes, and we caught a few fish out of the Verde River. We went wild turkey hunting, and occasionally camped overnight. The big event at night around the campfire was hot games of 42, (played with dominos, similar to Rook). We had some great times.

In Oakdale, black tail and mule deer hunting in the Sierras was the thing. One of the members had a couple of donkeys, and packed into a long- time camp, with some relatives. I went with them several times, and brought home some venison. I liked it much better after I got horses, so they could take the camp gear and me.

In Springfield, the hunter was just an occasional attendee, and through hunting with him, we became friends, and he became a regular attendee. The prey there was white tail deer, in the river bottoms of the Illinois River. I never did get one there, but had lots of fun.

Eureka was full of hunting fanatics. I had been given a pickup camper in Springfield and had it there. I would take it to their hunting camp with the horses. Betty even came along, as did the other wives, since there were RV’s. White or black- tail deer was the goal. We had a lot of good fellowship. The way they skinned a deer, was with a winch on a pickup. You would skin a little piece around the neck, and tie the winch to it. The deer was secured to a tree, and you could just pull the skin off, like you would take off a pair of long johns. There was always a big meat- cutting party when we returned home, that usually lasted all day.

The serious hunting started when I moved to Alaska. I could get a license in July of 1987, for the fall hunt. Since I had 2 horses, I did not have any trouble getting a partner. Moose are so big you need 2 guys to dress them and get them out. Steve Hill was my first hunting partner. We went up Wolverine creek the first year, and with some hard climbing got up on a bench. Before the day was over, we got a young bull. A bit later, Troy Knight, Jan, and I went up near Denali National Park caribou hunting. Each of us got one. I decided if you can’t get a caribou, you can’t get anything. They are so curious, they come to you. Hunting on horseback means that if you get game, you have to walk out, leading the horse, unless you have extra pack- horses. We arrived in Alaska in June, 86, and put in for a road- kill moose. The Fish and Game call the closest applicant to the kill. In February we got one that was hit and had a broken leg. The Highway Patrol had already finished it off. From that time, till about 6 months after we moved out, we lived on moose and caribou. It is good meat, no fat and no gamey taste. One half of a moose and a caribou would last us all year.


Packing a small moose out My first Caribou, and Troy Knight

I had heard of Hunter creek as a great place to hunt, but could not find a way into it, because all the property that bordered it was privately owned. Finally, while riding near Lake Eklutna, I came across another rider that told me how I could cross a mountain and get into the valley. He said if we got a moose, it would be very difficult to get back out, because it was so steep coming out. Steve happened to know a property owner that said we could come out on his property, if we got a moose. The idea of course, was that we would give him some. We decided to try it, and managed to get across the mountain, but not without difficulty, and down to the edge of the valley.

The next morning we started up the valley, having to cross the rather big glacier creek a couple of times. You do this coming out with a moose on the horses, by unloading the moose on one horse, riding it across, and lead the other one with a rope tied to it. The second guy then pulls the empty horse back across, loads the ½ moose on it. Then the first guy pulls it back across, unloads the moose, and the second guy pulls him back again, and then rides across. We finally got up to the head of the valley, where I had spotted a big bull a few days before from an airplane. I had taken in ½ of a small moose antler with me. We rattled it on some bushes. The big moose thinks that it is another bull that is rubbing the velvet off his antlers. He comes running, to drive the challenger away from his harem. When he was close enough, we solved his problem of having to protect his harem. I have the antlers in my living room now. They weighed 60 lbs.

We had crossed the creek twice, and got out of a bog where they had sunk up to their bellies twice, (having to unload them to get them out each time). We had to get up a steep hill, on which Gent fell near the top and rolled back down. And then we had to get back to our camp. By this time, it was dark. What a long day! Early the next morning we were on our way down the valley, to find the trail off the mountain to the road. We made it fine on a trail that led to the end of the valley, but then had to turn west about 5 miles to find the trail down (about 1000’) through alder trees. (Alder trees in Alaska grow in a clump, 6 or 7 small trunks from one root system. They are so thick a person can hardly get through them, certainly not a horse.) We had to find the trail, or sprout wings.

About 5 P.M. we realized that the only way we would find it, was for one guy go down, and come back up the trail. So Steve hiked down to the road, and hitch- hiked to his house, about 5 miles away. Linda took him around where we left the truck and trailer, about 25 miles, so he could bring it back. We knew it would be dark before he could do all of that. So, it would be the next day before he got back.

That left me with the horses and one moose, in grizzly country. That was fine with me, since I had a book, and a whole moose to eat. I had moose steak (back strap) for supper, breakfast and lunch. My only problem was keeping the bears from eating it. We had only planned to be gone 2 days, and this was the end of the 3rd day. When he got down and called Betty, they were just getting ready to have Greg with his Piper, to come see if he could find us. About noon the 4th day I heard a shot, and spotted Steve about a mile away and a bit above me, where the trail came out. By the time he got to me, I had the horses saddled and the camp ready to pack. I had no bear problem. We got down about 5 or 6 pm.

One really unusual hunt involved Bob Friesen, his 3 boys and Robert Faulkner. Bob had a 4 wheel Bronco with huge tires on it, that he used for hunting. Robert had a big draft horse, and I had my 2 and Steve’s big pack- horse. We were up off the Denali highway and the Big Su River, then about 25 miles south, we were on horseback and in a swamp buggy. There was some kind of unusual deal on the hunting season. You could hunt horseback, but not with a swamp buggy. We had 3 permits between us. The plan was to take the horses in and the buggy, hunt off the horses and when the week was up Bob would bring the moose out in his buggy. We made it in to where we going to camp, and about ½ to ¾ mile away were 5 legal moose on a hillside. I was tired and wanted to rest and eat, and get them the next morning. They insisted that we do it now, so we unloaded the camp, and rode the horses over to where we could stalk them. It turned out that 3 were together, and I was to get the middle one. We got in position, and those 2 started to shoot, but mine had his back to me and I wanted to get a neck shot. Finally he turned, after they had fired 3 or 4 times. I put mine down with one neck shot. As mine fell, I saw out of the corner of my eye that the one on my left fall, and immediately the one on my right fall. In the space of less than 2 seconds, we put 3 moose down, and we hadn’t even set up camp yet. We called it the great moose massacre.

We cleaned them and left them till next morning to skin and transport them to camp. The next day we got one skinned, quartered and boned out, and loaded on 3 horses. I was on the 4th horse, and headed for camp. By the time I got back, they had another one ready to go. By noon, we were back in camp, and the hunting was over. We could not take them out for 6 more days, unless we took one on the horses. It took 3 horses to haul a big moose and your camp out. On Wednesday, Faulkner and I and a load of moose, went home with the horses. Meanwhile Bob and his boys would stay, till it was legal for the swamp buggy to haul them out.

Bob was not due to get back home till Sunday, but Saturday morning he showed up at my house with my moose. While we were there, a couple of other hunters shot a illegal moose, and when they got out the game wardens got them. They saw us take the swamp buggy in, and told the wardens that if they wanted to get somebody, they should go after us. So Friday afternoon a Piper “Fish and Game” plane flew over our camp and all around. Finally it dropped a message in a tin can, and told Bob to come out then. He was to bring the moose, and not wait till Sunday, when he was supposed to come. By the time he got out, it was nearly midnight, and the regular season would open then. There was a long line of 4 wheelers, and swamp buggies lined up, as he came out with 3 big sets of antlers and meat on his buggy. The wardens thought they were going to send him up for life, but he had a note from us, giving him permission to haul ours out. They could not find any tracks of the swamp buggy being off the trail when they flew over. So he got to come home 2 days early.

Greg Peppered had a”souped” up Piper STOL (short take off and landing), that he used for hunting and fishing. It had tundra tires on it in the summer, and skis in the winter. I went with him one summer afternoon, and we flew out to the Alexander River, miles from any road. He landed on a sandbar, and we soon had our limit of King salmon. We were home in 3 hours total. In the winter he would use it to get wolves that had a bounty on them. I went with him once, and we did not find any wolves. But we did find a coyote. We were flying about 4 hundred feet when he spotted the coyote, and before I knew what was happening, he had swung around and landed. He had put on snow- shoes and was shooting the coyote, which was also worth cash. I got out to see what all was happening, stepped off the skis, and sunk up to my waist in snow. Tundra tires are big, about 3’ high and 1’ wide, low pressure tires. If they hit a big rock, the tires just press in, and the airplane thinks it is on a smooth runway.

One Sunday in May, after pm church, I asked Greg why we didn’t go bear hunting tomorrow, since he was off work for a few days. About an hour later he called me, and said, “Let’s go.” We left about 1pm on Monday, and flew south down the Alaska Peninsula about 150 miles. Flying near the beach, we spotted 3 grizzlies and decided to hunt the middle one. We landed on the beach and made camp, (you can not shoot the same day you fly). Early next morning, we were searching the meadows for the bear. After an hour or so we found him. We were downwind from him, with a creek bank in between us. It was a simple thing to slip up, prop our rifles on a fallen log, and shoot. Greg had a big caliber rifle to back me up. I was using my old trusty, 30-0-6, with a heavy charge behind a 200 grain bullet. One neck shot put him down without another movement. We got his skin. He didn’t seem to mind, and I am sure all the smaller male bears were glad to see him donate it. I am quite certain that the coyotes and ravens really appreciate the feed. We were back home by noon. It was the easiest hunt I ever had. He squared out at 8’3”, the average size is 7’8”. At the same time Keith was guiding a guy from “outside”. They spent 2 weeks and the guy spent $10,000 and got a smaller bear than mine. I spent $100 on gas. The bear is on my living room floor now.

I am a hunter, not a fisherman. However, to be with my men, I would go fishing with them. In the picture, I went with 2 members to the Little Sustitna River, and caught whatever these are.
I also hunted Dall sheep, but never did get one. My partner did get a ewe we had a permit for, and so we ate sheep. The horns are in my garage on the wall. On one hunt with Keith, up east of Mt. McKinley, we stalked 2 sheep one whole morning. We finally got within 50 yards of them, trying to decide for several minutes if they were legal or not. I finally decided they were not. When I got back home and rechecked the regulations, I decided they were. On one sheep hunt, a big wolf had a caribou kill, down in the creek near our camp. He lay up on a ridge in rifle range of our camp. The problem was, wolf season did not open till midnight. When we could see to shoot the next day, he was long gone.

B
ear stories: They are not real exciting, but maybe interesting, or funny. The first one was when Bone and my family were climbing Half Dome in Yosemite. We were up above Vernal and Nevada Falls, and were camping for the night. There were several other campers there as well.

Suddenly we saw a big black bear (all California bears are black, versus grizzly or brown) walking down the trail. He passed us and went to a nearby camp where the campers were down at the creek. He began tearing into their packs, so I got a long stick, stuck it in the fire and with it burning, approached him. He took off. In the 60’s and 70’s, in Yosemite, bears were seen all the time, raiding camps and garbage dumps. Finally the rangers have raised up a new generation of bears that had not been spoiled with human food, by being super strict about campers using bear boxes. You hardly ever see a bear there now, though there are just as many. We used to see them every time we went camping, or hiking, or horse packing. We became quite proficient in hanging our food in trees, to keep them out of it.

Once, Paul Orndoff and I and our kids were hiking from Tuolumne Meadows to Yosemite Valley. The second night, we got into camp after dark, and instead of hanging our food, we agreed just to put it at our heads so we would hear if a bear came. We were sleeping without a tent. In the morning, my pack was there, but Paul’s was gone. He had put it at his feet. We found it down the hill with all his food gone. Fortunately, I still had a little left in mine.

Ken Lundgren and I took my horses and rode in to Laurel Lake for an overnight fishing trip. We hung our food pack from a limb that was sloping down from a big ponderosa pine. I thought that no bear can get out on that limb. About midnight I heard something, and looked up at the pack. It was moving up. A yearling bear was on the end of the limb, pulling the pack up, paw over paw. We like to never have run him off. We moved it, but he got it anyway.

It was late May when we went camping, and there were still a few patches of snow, and a lot of snow- melt water on the trail. We came to a large puddle, and I rode through. Looking back, I saw Ken was having trouble, as Yen San was rearing up. Ken fell off, right in about 6” of snow water. It was a sunny day and he soon dried off. The next day as we were coming out, we had to cross the creek that fed the lake. I went across, and looked back in time to see Yen San rear up, and the bank cave off. Ken was submerged in the creek. I changed horses with him, and rode back and forth across the creek without any trouble. We got to where he fell in the first time, and Lady started giving him trouble. I then saw what was wrong. I had trained them to have a loose rein when the going was rough, so they could get their head down and see where they were going. When Ken got to a rough spot, he tightened the rein up, so he would have better control, he thought.

About 1975 0r 1976, I took about 15 teens on a 3 day hike from Tuolumne meadows to Yosemite Valley by Half Dome. The first night, I put the girls at one end of the camp and the boys at the other end. I was in the middle, we didn’t use tents. About 2 am, I had 6 girls trying to get into my sleeping bag with me. They were quite frantic! I had made the mistake of hanging the food from 2 trees near where they were sleeping. A sow and 2 cubs came along, and the cubs walked right over the girls. The girls didn’t seem to think that they were just teddy bears.

By the time I got the girls off of me, and over to see what was going on, the sow was up one tree and the cubs up the other. They were trying to get our food, hung on a rope between the two. The next night I could not put them at opposite ends of the camp. We all were in a row, I on one end and Cindy, always the brave one, on the other end. I woke up sometime during the night, and a huge bear was walking around us. Any of us could have reached out and touched him. I didn’t bother to wake them. The bear checked us out, and not finding any food, climbed the tree from which it was hung, but could not get it. I can remember at least 3 times when I could have touched a bear from my sleeping bag. Because it doesn’t rain in the summer in the Sierras, we never used tents.

In Alaska I saw many grizzlies while riding the horses and hunting. One event I remember was about a bear, but I did not see it. We were riding back down Wolverine Creek, in a lot of brush etc. I could see a small bear track in front of us on the trail. Taffy, our golden retriever, was with us. She always trotted out in front of me. Suddenly she stopped, her fur ruffled up, and she started backing up, all the way around us. I could not see the bear paw- print on the trail now. We went on, and in about 100 yards, she came back to the front and continued on the journey. The bear was obviously nearby, hidden in the brush.

Once, out behind Eureka, Alaska, (a gas station, restaurant and motel.) caribou hunting, I rode over a saddle in the mountains. About 1/4 miles away were 2 huge grizzlies. They were standing up, and boxing with each other. We watched them for 15 or 20 minutes. Finally they scented us and took off. The only thing I could figure out was that it was some kind of courting ritual.

I took Bone’s brother in law, Dr. John and some of his friend’s, from Colorado caribou hunting. We were up near Denali National Park. About dark He and I found a couple of caribou. John got off and shot one, but the horses were so upset, and I could not control them enough to shoot the other one. We cleaned his, and decided to come back in the morning to skin it and take it to camp. When we got back, we found the gut pile, but no caribou. Searching, we finally found it about 100 yards away. It was still intact. The bear had just picked it up by the back and carried it off. The only damage was a patch of hide missing, right in the middle of his back. I never could figure out why he didn’t eat any. Then I understood why the horses were so antsy while he was shooting. The grizzly was nearby. The horses would not pay any attention to black bears, but they sure would get agitated around grizzlies.

The 3 Peppard brothers and I were out hunting caribou once. We were camped on a high plateau, and the only place to tether the horses was blueberry bushes. About midnight, the horses came thundering into camp, having pulled up the bushes. We re-tied them at camp. The next morning, we found a gopher- hole, freshly dug up by a grizzly, where the horses had been were tethered.

I wanted to get a black bear while I was in Alaska. The limit was only 3 a year. But all the time I was out hunting moose, caribou, Dall sheep, grizzlies, or just riding, I never saw a black bear. The only black bear I saw in Alaska, outside of a zoo, was from an airplane.

Hunting moose one time, I looked over a canyon rim, and saw what I thought was a moose, it was so big. But I soon discovered it was a big grizzly. By the time we got into the canyon, he was long gone. We hunted, but could not find him.

M
Iscellaneous- Woodworking: Ever since I was in high school, I enjoyed working with wood. I did not have much opportunity until Springfield, when I inherited my dad’s tools. I soon made some oak altars there for the church, and paneled our play- room in the basement with barn wood. I made several things, as opportunity afforded. I began to secure more equipment. A lot of it was used, garage sale variety. In 1993 I made the 4 kids a wooden item for Christmas, and that continued every year since, until this year. This autobiography took up all my time. Soon the grandkids were included in the list, then some for birthdays, too. A few years ago T Deloris visited Beth, and started counting the things I had made. She counted over 150 things, mostly toys, but lots more since. I have made puzzles, doll houses, stools, picture frames, book- cases, toys of all types, mirror frames, shelves, lap- desks, jewelry boxes, etc. I miss being in the shop now, but alas, I am working on this.



Spark playing with Noah’s Ark and animals I made. In the picture is the rocking moose, snack tables, child’s picnic table. Picture on the right- Meg, Curley and Spark working a US map puzzle.

While in Springfield, I was visiting with a guy that had just retired and his wife had just died, and he was moving back home someplace. We were in the garage and I noticed up in the rafters, several 2” by 12” walnut planks. I offered to buy them from him but he wanted to move them and work with them since he was retired. About 3 weeks later on the day he was moving, he called me up and said to come over in my pickup. I did and he loading them in, walnut is an expensive wood that is really good for wood working, he said he did not have room to move them insisting that I take them and would not let me pay for them. I built a nice breakfast table from them and other things.
While in Oakdale the second time, Lloyd Stueve, called me up and wanted me to go to Grass Valley with him to pick up 2”by 12” lumber too rebuild the several picnic tables at the church. I needed some new planking for my horse trailer so I went along. While loading the cedar on the trailer I noticed a pile of 2” by 12” oak and walnut 16’ planks. I asked him if he wanted to sell any of them and he replied no. Just before we left, he started loading several of both oak and walnut on to our trailer and said just make me something and forget the cost. They were worth several hundred dollars. I kept waiting for him to tell me what to make for him. After a couple of years and not hearing I built 2 fancy flower stands, and Lloyd took them to him the next time he went. The guy was happy with them and I was sure happy with the wood. I still have about ½ of it. When Jan and Norm moved to Alaska Norm gave me a lot of Oak, so I now have a pretty good supply of wood.
Revivals: they are a very important part of evangelism and spiritual development of the church. We always had a minimum of 2 a year. I can remember having as many as 5 in one year. In our 42 years we had over 100. We had some evangelists as many as 3 or 4 times. They included: Buford Batten, Jimmy Dell, Bill Fisher, Robert Emsley, Norman Moore, Stuart McWhirter, and several more I will think of later.

Along the way there were some really outstanding ones. The first was in Nocona. Reuben and Dorothy Bridgewater were the evangelists and both were really good preachers. She was probably the best. It had been a really tight meeting, with lots of conviction, but little movement. The last Sunday night came, and there was again tremendous conviction. Dorothy gave the altar call, but there was no response, so she dismissed the service. But no one moved to leave. Everyone stayed where they were, including me on the platform. After a few minutes she said, “If you are not going to leave, I will give another altar call”. She did, with exhorting, but there was still no movement to the altar. After about 15 minutes, she dismissed again. Again no one moved. This happened 4 times. Finally some of the main members came forward, (and they needed to), and after a lengthy time of prayer and victory, she dismissed again. It was after 11:00 PM before they did start to leave. Dorothy Bridgewater was probably the most spiritually sensitive person I have ever met. She has written a small book about some of her most remarkable experiences. I think we have it. They retired soon after, so we did not get to have them again.

In Paradise Valley, with J. Paul Stewart from Alabama, an unusual occurrence happened. We had 6 or 7 people join Betty and I for a week of prayer and fasting, the week before the revival. We started the revival with good results. We had a 5 AM prayer meeting every morning at the church, as well. One morning my alarm did not go off, and I missed it. Three or 4 women got to talking and criticizing the evangelist at that meeting, and a cold blanket settled down on the services. There were no results for the last 3 services. On the last Sunday night, there was a tremendous move of the Holy Spirit. Those 3 went to the altar to confess, and that lifted the cold blanket. Many sinners responded then, with a lot of people being saved. He was a real Southern man. Everyone he prayed for, as we prayed every morning, was mentioned by both names, such as -Sue Ann, Billy Joe, etc. He had a tremendous vocabulary, and used many adjectives in describing something. It was very interesting listening to him, and the Spirit really used him.

Paul was about 4 years old, and J. Paul would tell him how to preach when he grew up. Over and over he told Paul to say, “Repent or Perish”,when you become a preacher. Bill Fisher was, I think, the best evangelist in our church at the time. Bud Robinson, and Jarret Aycock, from earlier times, might have been better. We had Fisher in Oakdale, Springfield and Alaska 2 times. He could get people to move to the altar better than anyone I knew. He was one of the best preachers I have ever heard.

Jimmy Dell, who couldn’t preach worth a hoot, was also very good at altar calls. Jimmy lived in Phoenix, and got saved while I was pastor at Paradise Valley. He had a tremendous testimony. He grew up in the church, and came from a very godly family at Coolidge. He had rejected the church, and became a pianist, and singer in night clubs. It appears that he was very successful entertainer. I had him come speak to our Men’s fellowship supper and give his testimony. He would play and sing. More accurately, he would bang on the piano and wail, and call it music. For some reason the people loved it. And they responded. Other pastors started using him, and soon he was a Youth Pastor, then a full- time song evangelist. A few years later he started preaching. He was not a very good preacher, but got lots better results than 99% of them. I had him In Paradise Valley, Oakdale, Springfield, Eureka and Alaska, and back to Oakdale. I have a lot of respect for evangelists. They have a tough row to hoe, financially, and being away from home. But they hang in there. Over the years I preached over 20 revivals my self, and since I have retired, 8 Faith Promise Conventions.

Skiing: I was 54 when I learned to ski. Some of the guys at Wasilla were going night skiing at Alyeska, a ski resort the other side of Anchorage. One of my teens who worked part time as a ski instructor, asked me if I was going. I told him I didn’t know how. He said, I will teach you.” We got to the top of the bunny slope, and I couldn’t do anything. He got in front, skiing backwards, and held my skis together. About ½ way down, suddenly it came together, and I could control them. He then taught me how to turn and stop etc. After 2 or 3 years, I was able to do all the black diamond’s on Alyeska. After I turned 60, I could ski at night for $10. I really enjoyed it. If it was not below 5 degrees, and the wind was calm, I had a lot of fun. I went to the Salvation Army Thrift store and bought skis, boots, and poles for $25. I had trouble keeping up with her. I think maybe I taught Curley and Spark also. Off course they all out- ski me now. I haven’t been since my knee replacement. Maybe it’s time to try it again.


(LEFT) Me teaching Meg to ski. There was a small ski- lift in Anchorage. It was not long before she was skiing on the World Class
slopes at Alyeska.

(RIGHT), Meg and me, ice skating in front of our house.

Health: It appears that Betty and I have fairly decent health considering our age. At least it seems like I have been aware of a lot of people younger than us, checking out lately. In fact I have lived longer than my Father, 3 brothers, and all my blood uncles, except one. And I think I might still have a few years in me yet. It’s hard to believe that I am the family patriarch. I have been in hundreds of hospitals, it seems, making pastoral calls. But only about a week was I a patient. When I was 5, I lost my tonsils. When I was 28, I lost my appendix. When I was 73, I traded my knee for a new one.

Somewhere along the line, I lost my mind. Other than that, I still have everything. Of course, getting going every morning takes a bit of time. I remove the sleep breathing mask, find and put in my tooth bridge, poke in my hearing aids, place my glasses on my nose, get the brace on my left ankle, and do some back exercises, and test my blood sugar. And then I can begin to communicate. They haven’t come up with anything to help my smell yet, so I just let that one ride.

Since the early 90’s I have gotten a lot of enjoyment out of scratching my psoriasis, and I am still riding horses, and doing a fair amount of work each day. My blood pressure average for the last 4 months, which I check occasionally, as soon as I get up, is 107.5 over 64.4. My weight is down to 195, and I have reversed my diabetes. My cholesterol is 142. I just had my annual physical today, and Dr. Jim said I was doing real good. I am feeling better than I have in years. My spinal stenosis has not bothered me, since I started doing back exercises in Aug. So, every day I thank God for all of His blessings, and for being ahead of the pack, health wise.

50th Anniversary surprise: June 7, 2007, completed 50 years for Betty and me. The kids had planned a celebration for June 24, when all 4 of them could be here. I had thought that it would sure be great if all of my relatives could be here, but only had hope that T. Deloris would come. Early in the summer I had talked to Cindy about Nubbin and Prof. coming for a visit. About the 1st of June she called and said they could come the week before, and she would take them home with her. But it was too late to get cheap airline tickets, so would I meet her at Paul’s little “cabin in the woods”, at Mt. Shasta, and bring my “rest home”. This was supposedly because Paul had loaned it to some friends that weekend, and we would need the “rest home” to stay the night before returning home.

It was planned that Beth would come to help Betty get the house ready. She left a day or so before we did, to visit friends in near- by Grants’ Pass. Then, (they said), they were going to Paul’s house to see Cindy, as well. Then Ken was going to come up and ride with us, to meet them at Paul’s. This was Friday, 9 days before the anniversary. So, like a sheep, I was innocently led along, without expecting a thing. Cindy said she could be there at 5:00, so we were there at 5:00.

Pulling into the drive, I see that Cindy’s car is already there, and Beth’s is there, and Paul is there. He says that he decided to come up and see Cindy also. In the front yard is a big tent. As we go in, Paul says, “My friends are having a party tomorrow.” I was still in the dark, as was Betty. As I walked in, there was a gal with a video camera at her eye, who looked just like Karen, Craig’s wife, from Okla., taking pictures. Then a tall skinny guy, that looked just like Hurk from Ky., sticks his head around the corner, then his wife Ruth, and finally Craig. Out of the woodwork emerges Jan, Norm, Ava and Kate.


My 40 relatives: from California, Washington, Alaska, Oklahoma, Colorado, and Kentucky

By now all 4 kids and their families were visible. It finally dawned on me, that it was really them. I was stunned with amazement, and then T. Deloris came in. I was not to pick her up at until next Thursday at Sacramento! She was followed by Kate and Len. Wow! I thought the whole family was here. Before hugs were over- Kenny, Amy, and Tanner appear. About 10 minutes later ,Vickie and Bobbie Frisk, (regarded as part of the family), arrive. Kate explained to me how sorry Bone II and ¼ Blonde (Ruthie) were that they could not afford to come. I was in a state of shock! I had never been so pleasantly and completely surprised in my life! I was getting ready for bed about 11:00 pm and the door open on the” rest home”, and Bone II and TT, and his 3 children walk in, and with them is ¼ Blonde with her friend Mike. They had driven from Pueblo, Co. All of my Horton relatives were there, except Craig’s daughter and son, and Kenny, Don’s boy from Texas. I was in a state of euphoria! I could not have dreamed of a better anniversary than this.

The next day was filled with motorcycle and jeep riding, swimming, kayaking, talking and eating. In the afternoon under the tent, a big catered Mexican meal was served, and the celebration began. There was special music from grandkids, comments from kids, and gifts. The big gift was a cruise, and since we would be doing a lot of traveling, an iPod to enjoy music, and lots of other stuff, (see vacations for info. about the cruise). Friends of Beth, that we knew from Grants’ Pass, came down also, making 46 people. Sunday we had church services under the tent. Betty sang, violins and a flute played, and I preached. What a day of reunion and fellowship!

I doubt that anybody ever has had such a great 50th Anniversary! Plus, the next Sunday we did it again at Oakdale. That was really great also, but an anticlimax after the great surprise. Lots of old friends and converts came, some from a distance. It included a potluck dinner, and 2 big cakes, like the one at our wedding. It was all so much fun that I have decided the kids should do it again.





Trudy Deloris and Len Capraro.
T. Deloris is the only remaining member of my immediate family. She lives in the home my folks bought in 1956 in Bethany, Okla. I lived there a couple of months before going to Seminary.



Conclusion: A letter I received from a former church member said in part. “The ministry you both had still lingers and simply cannot be written on a sheet of paper. Countless souls were won to Christ, including my husband, mother, sister, children, mother and father-in-law, and many neighbors and friends,” signed, Janice. As I think of my ministry, I am grateful for the blessings and success I have had. But my one concern is that all those I know and love, family and friends, whoever reads this, will likewise have spiritual blessings, and the assurance of salvation. I am planning a big reunion, (much bigger then my 50th), when I get to heaven. I pray daily that all who read this are planning on attending.















October
2008