Who Packs Your Parachute.

I had a strange and thought provoking moment yesterday, apart from the wonderful experience of throwing paint about. I was feeling good, having painted something I liked so I headed off to share it with my old pal Archie. Now when I think of it that was not the best thing to do, abstract art flies over his head, he much prefers paintings like the squirrel that he knows what they are.

Anyway, as we stood, I overheard somebody say, “What is he going on about running for; silly old git needs a stick to walk.” I could feel the hair at the back of my neck rise. I had to count to ten, before going over and quietly telling them that he had ever right to talk about running. I pointed out he was now in his eighties, and still walking everyday, even if it was with the aid of a stick. I also told them that he had once run ten miles to work and ten miles home every day. My last parting words were, “Think about that the next time you light up a cigarette, and ask yourself if you will.”

This incident reminded me of the story of the war fighter air pilot, Charles Plumb.

He was a US Naval jet pilot in Vietnam. After 75 combat missions, his plane was destroyed by a surface-to-air missile. Plumb ejected and parachuted into enemy lands. He was captured and spent 6 years in a communist Vietnamese prison. He survived the ordeal and now lives happily with his wife.



One day, when Plumb and his wife were sitting in a restaurant, a man at another table came up and said, "You're Plumb! You flew jet fighters in Vietnam from the aircraft carrier Kitty Hawk. You were shot down!"

"How in the world did you know that?" asked Plumb. "I packed your parachute," the man replied.



Plumb gasped in surprise and gratitude. The man pumped his hand and said, "I guess it worked!" Plumb assured him, "It sure did. If your chute hadn't worked, I wouldn't be here today."



Plumb couldn't sleep that night, thinking about that man. He still says, "I kept wondering what he might have looked like in a Navy uniform: A white hat, a bib in the back, and bell bottom trousers. I wonder how many times I might have seen him and not even said good morning,

how are you or anything because, you see, I was a fighter pilot, and he was just a sailor."



Plumb thought of the many hours the sailor had spent on a long wooden table in the bowels of the ship, carefully weaving the shrouds and folding the silks of each chute, holding in his hands each time the fate of someone he didn't know.

This story reminds me to remember each day that what ever it is I manage to accomplish it is because there are others in the background encouraging me and giving me support. Packing my parachute!



They are the ones who help me physically and emotionally as well as mentally, some of you are reading this blog right now. Thank you for packing my parachute. Now today ask yourself, who is packing yours?

The artwork here is discussed on my other blog:  Soaring Thoughts and Musical Moments

Buy One Get The Rest Free.

This snow is certainly bringing together a community in the street where I live. The ongoing battle to try and keep the hilly road to our homes open is binding us together. Small acts of kindness and a sense of one for all. A neighbour trying to go to the shop for vegetables to discover the shop had none, cheered by what I was able to give her from the produce of my plot. Yesterday I went to visit my old father in law taking with me what provisions we could get. While at the store I bought a haggis. As I left the store a representative of the company gave me a heated sample of the product and because I had purchased one gave me another free. My neighbour said it was delicious.

Today I awoke stiff and sore all over muscles aching. I opened the curtains to what? More snow covering the road and still falling fast. Seems we are not yet through this. My heart was heavy as I watched it fall.

It did though bring back to mind this story.

Years ago, there was a very wealthy man who, with his devoted young son, shared a passion for art collecting. Together they travelled around the world, adding only the finest art treasures to their collection. Priceless works by Picasso, Van Gogh, Monet, and many others adorned the walls of their family estate. The widowed elderly man looked on with satisfaction as his only child became an experienced art collector. The son's trained eye and sharp business mind caused his father to beam with pride as they dealt with art collectors around the world. As winter approached, war engulfed their nation, and the young man left to serve his country.

After only a few short weeks, the elderly man received a telegram that his beloved son was missing in action. The art collector anxiously awaited more news, fearing he would never see his son again. Within days his fears were confirmed. The young man had died while rushing a fellow soldier to a medic. Distraught and lonely, the old man faced the upcoming Christmas holidays with anguish and sadness. The joy of the season-a season that he and his son had so looked forward to in the past-would visit his house no longer. On Christmas morning, a knock on the door awakened the depressed old man.

As he walked to the door, the masterpieces of art on the walls only reminded him that his son was not coming home. He opened the door and was greeted by a soldier with a large package in his hand.



The soldier introduced himself to the old man by saying, "I was a friend of your son. I was the one he was rescuing when he died. May I come in for a few moments? I have something to show you." As the two began to talk, the soldier told of how the man's son had told every one of his-and his father's-love of fine art work. "I'm also an artist," said the soldier, "and I want to give you this." As the old man began to unwrap the package, paper gave way to reveal a portrait of the man's son.



Though the world would never consider it a work of genius, the painting featured the young man's face in striking detail. Overcome with emotion, the old man thanked the soldier, promising to

hang the portrait above the fireplace. A few hours later, after the

soldier had departed, the old man set about his task. True to his word, the painting went above the fireplace, pushing aside thousands of dollars worth of paintings. And then the old man sat in his chair and spent Christmas gazing at the gift he had been given. During the days and weeks that followed, the man learned that his son

had rescued dozens of wounded soldiers before a bullet stilled his

caring heart. As the stories of his son's gallantry continued to reach

him, fatherly pride and satisfaction began to ease his grief, as he

realized that, although his son was no longer with him, the boy's life

would live on because of those he had touched.

The painting of his son soon became his most prized possession, far eclipsing any interest in the priceless pieces for which museums around the world clamoured. He told his neighbours it was the greatest gift he had ever received. The following spring, the old man became ill and passed away. The art world was in anticipation, since, with the old man's passing, and his only son dead, those paintings would be sold at an auction. According to the will of the old man, all of the art works would be auctioned on Christmas Day, the way he had received his greatest gift.



The day finally arrived and art collectors from around the world gathered to bid on some of the world's most spectacular paintings.

Dreams could be fulfilled this day; greatness could be achieved as some could say," I have the greatest collection." The auction began with a painting that was not on any museum list... It was the painting of the old man's son. The auctioneer asked for an opening bid, but the room was silent.



"Who will open the bidding with £100?" he asked. Moments passed as no one spoke. From the back of the room came, "Who cares about that painting? It's just a picture of his son. Let's forget it and get on to the good ones." More voices echoed in agreement. "No, we have to sell this one-first," replied the auctioneer. "Now who will take the son?"



Finally, a friend of the old man spoke. "Will you take £10 for the

painting? That's all I have. "Will anyone go higher?" called the

auctioneer.

After more silence he said, "Going once, going twice...Gone!" The gavel fell. Cheers filled the room and someone shouted; "Now we can get on with it and bid on these treasures!"



The auctioneer looked at the audience and announced that the auction was over. Stunned disbelief quieted the room. Then someone spoke up and asked, "What do you mean it's over? We didn't come here for a portrait of some old man's son! What about all of the other paintings? There are millions of dollars worth of art work here.

We demand an explanation!"



The auctioneer replied, "It's very simple. According to the will of the father, whoever takes the son...gets it all."

Leaving my other blog for one more day. I Remember (No More)

The Rules of Ownership.

I am snowed in today. Overnight we had another massive fall of snow. As I look out the window it is obvious that putting on running shoes would be an utter waste of time. Walking would be possible but it would be silly to try anything of any distance. So I am trying another watercolour, difficult because I am not alone in the house, I am not the only one snowed in.

Yesterday I walked for almost three hours, completing a walk that would normally have taken just over two hours. The snow was deep and the path I was walking had many obstacles caused by branches broken with the weight of the snow.

In the village the order of the day was snow clearing. Now I remember when I was younger it was the pavements that people cleared, throwing the snow to the edge of the road, leaving the central area for any cars that might be moving. Now the main aim of everybody is to get the car moving and the road clear. Snow was being piled high on pavements forcing anybody at all trying to walk to venture onto the road and take the risk of being hit by a skidding car. I even noticed some people throwing snow onto the pavements of older people who have no car, and may well want to get out for bread or milk. Then maybe I am being cynical but I suspect nobody has noticed that they might need out. Or maybe once they get the car moving they will go get the bread and milk. Now why do I not believe this?

I just could not help feeling that somewhere we have lost the whole meaning and purpose of life. I keep getting told that I am wrong and that it is just my age. Maybe they are correct, but I have a real deep nagging thought that it is more than that. I suspect that the rules of childhood ownership now carry on well into later years, if ever to be let go of at all. What do I mean?

If I like it, it's mine.

If it's in my hand, Its mine.

If I can take it from you, it's mine.

If I had it a little while ago, It's mine.

If it's mine, it must never appear to be yours in any way.

If I am doing or building something, all the pieces are mine.

If it looks like mine, it is mine.

If I saw it first, it's mine.

If you are playing with something and you put it down, it automatically becomes mine.

If it's broken, it's yours.



Ah well I better get back to this watercolour I am trying to do. I hope nobody has seen my paints and think they belong to them.

Pictures above are of my walk yesterday and the view from my study window this morning.


Have a great day.

I have another blog at Cold Mornings.

Laughing In The Rain

Yesterday was one of those day, It started with a bang. My wife woke me calling for help. She had gone to get the bread toaster from under the unit that covers the boiler in our kitchen, only to discover the toaster was in fact holding the full weight of the unit. It had decided to part company with the wall. What a great way to start your day.

Once things were in a condition that I could see to getting help later, I prepared to go out for my morning run. The rain was pounding into my face and a strong gales force wind was blasting my face. I asked myself, “Can this day get any worse.”

The answer was forthcoming very soon. It did get worse but I will not bore you with the details. One way or another it looked as if it was to be one of those, “I wish my Aunt Liz was still alive ,” kind of days.

Now let me explain what I mean by that. My aunt Liz was a marvellous old lady. She lived to the ripe old age of 103. In all the time I knew her I cannot ever remember her complaining about anything. No matter how bad things ever got she would always say the same thing, “Ah well if you don’t laugh you would want to cry.” What a marvellous saying that is.

She believed that laughter was the cure for all things, and for her it most certainly did seem to work. She lived alone, her sister died at the age of 93. She was independent by nature and loved to have people round for afternoon tea and scones. She lost a leg due to illness. Did that get her down, not a bit. It slowed her down but did not get her down.

She always had a great many friends and her afternoon teas were never taken alone. Because she made people laugh. So on bad days I often hear myself saying, “I wish aunt Liz was alive.” The very memory of her and her laughter usually works.

She is no longer with me, but I am blessed with her memory and with two dear friends who live by the same attitude. Laughter is the name of the game. Yesterday they both in their way helped me though my day.

One of these people I told you about yesterday and showed you his portrait, Archie. When I saw him yesterday he said to me, “My man your looking awful serious. You need to laugh a bit.” I turned my back for a moment and he had got hold of some stuff the shop was using for Halloween decorations and stuck it under his hat. When I saw him I could not help but laugh. I laughed all the way home and I am laughing even now as I think of him.

So no more words look again at my picture of him. He is 21 years old going on 84, he tells me, but he is just laughter on the hoof.

I hope you agree it is a good Halloween picture and that he manages to spread his laughter to your heart.

This blog is linked to my other. Portrait

How Many Does It Take.

I stood in the shop waiting and waiting. There were four members of staff present and the delivery man was there also, so five of them and one of me. I waited while all four were gathering items to complete the order the delivery man was waiting to deliver. Heads down intense on the task to hand.

I studied the clock on the wall as the second hand repeated its journey for the now sixth time. This must be a really important person they are serving I thought. The need for urgency was so obvious.

At last one of them turned her attention to me. “What can I do for you?” I thought for a moment and said, “Serving me would be nice.” “I see,” she said, “What can I get you?”

Well I had an answer but decided just to tell her what it was I wanted. She went to get the required items. Actually it looked like maybe she was having a real bad day. Her face looked so sad and downcast. At last all the required items were gathered and I paid the bill.

Surprise, surprise she could smile. She beamed as she handed me the receipt. “Can I ask you to look at the back of the receipt? We are asking customers to go online and complete a customer service survey. You could wind £200.”

I looked at her straight in the face and gave her a gentle smile. “I would just love to complete your survey.” Yesterday I did just that can you guess what I said in it? I will leave you to think about that.

Reminded me of the survey about artists and light bulbs.

How many artists does it take to change a light bulb?



Ten. One to change it, and nine to reassure him about how good it looks.



How many modern artists does it take to change a light bulb?



Four. One to throw bulbs against the wall, one to pile hundreds of them in a heap and spray-paint it orange, one to glue light bulbs to a cocker spaniel, and one to put a bulb in the socket and fill the room with light while all the critics and buyers are watching the fellow smashing the bulbs against the wall, the fellow with the spray-gun, and the cocker spaniel.



How many surrealists does it take to change a light bulb?



Two. One to hold the giraffe and the other to fill the bathtub with brightly coloured machine tools.



How many visitors to an art gallery does it take to change a light bulb?



Two. One to do it and one to say "Huh! My four-year old could've done that!"

How many members of staff does it take to serve a customer? Five if the customer cannot take time to come to the shop.

How many muscles does it take to create a smile? Every muscle in your head. I hope they are all working right now.

I am indeed looking forward to today I hope you are also.  And yes the above story about the shop and the survey is a very true story, I can give you the link to the customer survey.

This blog is linked to my other.  I Have Added More Darks

So You Thought Nobody Was Looking.

I was Katherine yesterday who said that my story made her cry. It made her cry because she has a deep and profound love of children. That makes her a marvellous teacher, I am sure of this because of the blogs I have read. I was a teacher, and I believe in my heart I was a good teacher.

But let me tell you a little secret. We are all teachers, and the real secret is that we are all teachers when least realise that we are in fact teaching. Let me explain, not today in a story but another of those little lists I so like and enjoy

When you thought I wasn't looking, I saw you hang my first painting on the refrigerator and I immediately wanted to paint another one.

When you thought I wasn't looking I saw you feed a stray dog, and I learned that it was good to be kind to animals.

When you thought I wasn't looking, I saw you make my favourite cake for me and I learned that the little things can be the special things in life.

When you thought I wasn't looking, I saw you make a meal and take it to a friend who was sick, and I learned that we all have to help take care of each other.

When you thought I wasn't looking, I saw you give of your time and money to help people who had nothing and I learned that those who have something should give to those who don't.

When you thought I wasn't looking, I saw you take care of our house and everyone in it and I learned we have to take care of what we are given.

When you thought I wasn't looking, I saw how you handled your responsibilities, even when you didn't feel good and I learned that I would have to be responsible when I grow up.

When you thought I wasn't looking, I saw tears come from your eyes and I learned that sometimes things hurt, but it's alright to cry.

When you thought I wasn't looking, I saw that you cared and I wanted to be everything that I could be.

When you thought I wasn't looking, I learned most of life's lessons that I need to know to be a good and productive person when I grow up.

When you thought I wasn't looking, I looked at you and wanted to say, 'Thanks for all the things I saw when you thought I wasn't looking.'

Each and every one of no matter the age teaches those who watch us all the time. We influence those who love us and those who respect us.

Who will be watching you today and what will you teach that person?

This blog is linked to my other.Large MM Abstract

What Was That You Said?

I have nothing to say and I am only going to say it once. Yes I actually heard somebody saying that yesterday. How often can you say nothing. I was not part of the conversation it was a moment snatched that I overheard. It did make me consider though just how many words it takes to say nothing.
I used to tell my students to always remember that if they looked in the mirror, something most of them were not averse to doing, they would notice that there were some things they all had in common. For example, they all had two ears, one nose and one mouth. My son having only one eye makes me very aware of how far one can take this. They would all agree, often of course with some comment about being glad they did not have somebody else’s nose. I then went on to tell them that having one mouth and two ears, they should use them in that proportion. We should do twice as much listening as speaking.

I walked up the road yesterday just as the schools were coming out for the end of the day, and the start of the weekend. I often marvel at how young people communicate at all. They just all talk at once, liberally scattered with words I do not know, and words I would chose not to use.

I remember being told this wonderful phrase. "Say what you mean, mean what you say, and don't be mean when you say it." I really must be getting old. I love words and the power they have to bring joy and healing. But sadly, I believe we are losing the wonderful art of communication. Technology is making conversations one sided, and the art of listening is dying.

Have you ever considered that the two words, SILENT and LISTEN, use the same letters. Now tell me the is a coincidence!

A young son and his father were walking in the mountains. The father said, “Why don’t you yell and see if anyone is out there?”

So the little boy yelled, “Helllooooooo.

To his surprise, he hears a voice answering, “Helllooooooo.



Curious, he yells back, "Who are you?"

He receives the answer: "Who are you?"



Angered at the response, he screams: "You’re an idiot!"

He hears the reply: "You’re an idiot!"



He looks to his father and asks, "What's going on?"

The father explained that he’s hearing an echo, and whatever he says will be repeated back to him. Then the dad yelled into the valley, “I think you’re great!”

The voice answers, “I think you’re great!”



The father turned to his son and explained: "The way you talk to others is a lot like this echo. If you’re angry and yell at them, they will yell back. But if you will say nice things to them, they will respond in the same way to you.”



I leave you this morning with a couple of little sayings I learned from my grandmother. I do not know where she learned them because I never took the time to ask. She used to say to me, "Two monologues don't make a dialogue."

And my final word, “Never miss the opportunity to keep your mouth shut.”

I hope you have a wonderful day and weekend.

You did not think for one minute I was going to stop with my final word, did you?

This blog is linked to my other. Be Still

What You’re Really Saying

 I am going off today in my caravan. I have been walking the coastal path where I live. To complete the whole walk we are taking a few days living at the far end and walking some of it from there. The total walk is some 90 miles. It will be nice to be in another place and the possibility of meeting other people.

I am, my wife tells me an avid people watcher. In truth I love the experience of new people. Some people make it very difficult to get to know them though. They roll out the carpet of unwelcome. Others, it seems just do not know how to take a compliment.

Yesterday I popped down to my plot. Before leaving I had been given a gift of two cabbages and a turnip. Feeling good I headed home thinking I would share my joy. I was heading to the newsagent when I bumped into somebody I had not seen in ages. I commented on how well she looked. “What do you mean?” she said. “Are you saying I do not look good every other day? You said I look good today. That must mean I do not look good every day.” I decided not to offer her the extra cabbage. Some people have a wonderful art of changing a compliment into an insult.

Strangers beware!

I remember once visiting a new church while on holiday. My son and I attended the early morning service. Not one member of that congregation spoke to us at that service. The following Sunday we returned. This time I put on my ministerial collar. We were overwhelmed by people wanting to welcome us. I said nothing about the pervious week, but when invited to preach the following Sunday. I preached on the carpet of unwelcome. I told them maybe they need to have a welcome mat. That congregation did just that. They had a rota of people who were there looking for strangers. I am sure many visitors enjoyed their visit to that church that summer.

It is all about attitude really. Some people look for rejection. Let me end with a great little story.

A young trainee salesman had become discouraged because he had been rejected by so many of the customers he approached. He asked a more experienced salesman for some advice.



“Why is it that every time I make a call on someone I get rejected?”



“I just don’t understand that,” answered the older salesman. “I’ve been hit on the head, called dirty names, and thrown out the door, but I’ve never been rejected.”



Rejection isn’t what happens to us but how we interpret what happens to us.



Oh the cabbage! I said good morning to a stranger after purchasing my newspaper. He responded by commenting on the weather and stopped to pass the time of day. I hope he enjoyed the cabbage.



I hope to be able to post my blog but if not it is because of circumstances not that I have rejected anybody.



Have a wonderful weekend.

This blog is linked to my other.  The Coastal Path

Ten Past Eight

I thank you for yesterday’s responses. I was aware that such lists had been around for a long time, that is after all the way of life. Seldom does anybody come up with a new idea. I found this idea along with the letter writing idea many years ago. I will explain that in a moment. I liked both ideas and took them on board and made them my own.


From time to time I drag them out from my documents folder and consider them, make amends, remove and add or adapt, until I feel happy with them. The whole process I find helpful and it gives me the opportunity to consider how I feel my life is going. I do this on the basis that it is never too old to learn. My first list was about eleven items long. When I dragged it out the other day it had crept up to nearly 30. I shared what I considered the ten I had changed the least over recent years.

The letters are much more difficult. I have attempted to write to everybody I have ever hurt or offended. Some people answered others did not. But I have learned, that it is for me worth the time doing this.

Yesterday I bumped into a recipient of one such letter. The person recognised me in the store and came over and spoke to me. How wonderful an encounter and made the letter worthwhile. We parted laughing as she told me the very true story of her friend. Her husband and her had gone to the Edinburgh Festival Ticket Office and purchased a number of tickets for some shows. The wife looked at them and said to her husband, “You silly man all these tickets are for ten past eight. How can we be at the same venue at the same time?” He looked at her, and then the tickets.

“You are the silly one,” he said. “The tickets are for the year 2010 not the hour 2010. She looked at him feeling a fool but they laughed. He used the story to write a letter to the paper and one the letter of the day competition.

This story, which I assure is true reminded me of another that I am sure is not at all true but who knows.

It is the story of the employer who asked one of his staff to clean the lifts (elevators in the USA). He had a difficult time getting staff to do the job well. Four days later he bumped into the man still cleaning. He asked why the job was taking so long, but did complement him on how clean they were. The man explained that it was an enormous job. He asked the employer if he realised there were 40 of these things to clean. Two on each floor and sometimes they were not even there.

People are indeed so funny but I rejoice that there are always people who can leave us feeling good because we have been in their company for even just a short time.

So my lists and my letters will continue because for me they work and are important.

Thanks again for all the great comments.


This blog is linked to my other.You Make Me Feel Like Dancing

Don’t Dump Your Rubbish Here.

It was bound to happen on day sooner or later. Every Wednesday is bin day where I live. That means we but out our rubbish (garbage) for collection. One week it is just the household rubbish the following it is household and garden and so on. Usually they are emptied in the morning and I go out and put my bin away and any of the neighbours bins still out I wheel away for them also.


Yesterday I had not heard them arrive so it had gone out of my mind altogether. Later in the day I drove out the drive in reverse, you have guessed it, and hit the bin scattering my rubbish. Nice job to clean up after just having a shower.

Reminded me of a lesson I learned many years ago.

How often do you let other people's nonsense change your mood? Do you let a bad driver, rude waiter, curt boss, or an insensitive employee ruin your day? Unless you're the Terminator, for an instant you're probably set back on your heels. However, the mark of a successful person is how quickly she can get back her focus on what's important.



I learned it in the passenger seat of an old mans car. Here's what happened. We were driving in the right lane when, all of a sudden, a black car shot out of a parking space right in front of us. My friend slammed on his brakes, skidded, and missed the other car’s back end by just inches!



The driver of the other car, the guy who almost caused a big accident, whipped his head around and he started yelling obscenities at us. My friend just smiled and waved at the guy in a very friendly way. So, I said, "Why did you just do that? This guy almost ruined your car and sent us to the hospital!" And this is when he told me what I now call, "The Law of the Bin Lorry." (For those of you on the other side of the pond substitute Garbage Truck)



Many people are like rubbish trucks. They run around full of rubbish, full of frustration, full of anger, and full of disappointment. As their rubbish piles up, they need a place to dump it. And if you let them, they'll dump it on you. When someone wants to dump on you, don't take it personally. You just smile, wave, wish them well, and move on. You'll be happy you did.



So this was it: The "Law of the Rubbish Truck.” I started thinking, how often do I let Rubbish Trucks run right over me? And how often do I take their rubbish and spread it to other people a work, at home, on the streets? It was that day I said, "I'm not going to do anymore."

Good leaders know they have to be ready for their next meeting.

Good parents know that they have to welcome their children home from school with hugs and kisses.

Leaders and parents know that they have to be fully present, and at their best for the people they care about. The bottom line is that successful people do not let rubbish trucks take over their day. What about you? What would happen in your life, starting today, if you let more rubbish trucks pass you by? Here's my bet. You'll be happier. Life's too short to wake up in the morning with regrets, so. Love the people who treat you right. Forget about the ones who don't.

I told this tale to a lad yesterday. He was getting a lot of stick from others because he is different. He sent me a lovely text this morning saying he had let three rubbish trucks pass him this morning and was feeling better for it.

This blog is linked to my other. Sunflowers 2