Just the reminder I needed as I embark tomorrow on a series of flights that will deposit me in Paris for a visit I have looked forward to for 50 years! Cheerful will hardly describe my feelings. I just need to remember to project those feelings for the benefit of other travelers.
I have just returned from a trip to Paris,then Tours,then Nimes visiting families I knew in my U.S.Army days 1953,54. Paris,.and Gare de Lyon we're chaotic,not cheerful. I wish you better luck.........Bob
2016, flying from Duluth for the first time, headed to Chicago. Once through security in Duluth’s small airport I see a table with shoehorns, some of them the long style, so no bending over needed. I observe to the nearest officer that in no other airport have I ever seen the courtesy of shoehorns for those who are putting their shoes back on. “That’s Minnesota nice, right there,” she replied.
Yes, there is something surreal about saying Good Morning to a stranger and Thank You to a stranger when it seems totally out of character to the speaker. Sure as hell, it makes you feel better about yourself and the world in general whether it matters or not in the big picture. Thanks GK.
Mr Garrison, I can’t believe I found you after all this time. I felt like I lost that good mannered friend I used to listen to on the radio every Saturday and sure did miss him. Had no idea you’d be on Substack and it makes me happy we’ve’re-connected’! Thank for being here! Stay around for a long time!
Everyone so quiet, looking inward and gloomy. As we reached the third floor, I said, “Third floor. Lingerie. Next floor, Menswear.”
Everyone turned to me and started to laugh. One fellow from the last century (mine) said: “Wow. Did THAT take me back!” And he departed, still smiling.
When I attended the Slavic Full Gospel Church, for religious refugees from the Former Soviet Union, occasionally we had visitors “on a book-selling circuit.” They would have small books that could be fitted into a shirt pocket for sale. The goal, of course, was to generate enough income to travel around the U.S. and visit refugee communities here. One of our visitors was promoting his biographical “Escape From Buchenwald.” Our pastor called me and said “Susannah! You’ve got to come this Wednesday and hear this visitor!” So, of course, I went. I bought a copy of his book, and ended up driving him past Niagara Falls (with a tourist stop so he could say he’d actually seen the falls), to a Slavic Pentecostal church in northern Ohio.
When I got back, I decided I needed a “code-breaker” to figure out the text of his book. I asked Brother Stephen to help me. Stephen’s family had come to the US when he was ten years old, so he was elegantly bilingual. “Dub!” I’d read. “What’s a Dub?” I asked Stephen. “Well. Normally, that means an oak tree. However, in slang, it’s pretty close to “Block-head” – and oak is one of the densest types of wood around.”
With Stephen’s help, I worked my way through this former prisoner’s tale of escape. He had chosen a time when the guards were celebrating at a party, and left through a gap in the chain link fencing that surrounded the prison camp. Once he was out, however, how was he going to survive? He found a farmer’s shed with sacks of potatoes. By then he was nearly starving, so he took a sack and headed off to a quiet hilltop where he could keep watch for pursuers. He sat on a rock that worked as a chair, and opened the sack. The potatoes had green color mixed in with the skin. He knew that eating green potatoes could cause upset stomachs, or worse. But there he was! How could he remove the skins? He prayed, “Oh Lord, if only I had a knife!” And, Lo and Behold! When he opened his eyes and looked around, he saw a small, folded pocketknife lying just a few feet away in the sand! He took that as a sign that the Lord would take care of him and lead him to freedom! And, Lo and Behold! That’s just what the Lord did! The escaped Christian was taken in by one rural family of Believers after another. He would stay in their lean-tos of poles in the woods for a night, then be guided to the next safe haven. Eventually he reached the Black Sea. He was able to hide in a small fishing boat, pass through the Dardanelles, and come to shore in the Free World! From there, a missionary society sponsored his trip through North America, and printed his booklet for him as a source of funds.
One thing that many folks in the Free World may not be aware of, is that being a Christian can be a cause for imprisonment in the Former Soviet Union. I’ve gone to Assemblies where formerly imprisoned Christians have given witness to life in a Siberian Prison Camp. At one of these meetings, I met a man whose hands had been severely frostbitten in the cold. He had stubs of one finger bone each, rather than the normal three bones for the 8 longer fingers, and two for the thumbs. That’s another thing those of us who are “normal” probably never think about! How can you handle things if your fingers can’t curl and clutch things? This man “Got along somehow…”, but, for example, he couldn’t turn the page in a book.
Sometimes, folks might wonder “Why do you write about Russians?” I think it helps us to consider “Diversity” if we become aware that not everyone thinks, or acts, or has access to the same experiences in life. One of the reasons I’m such a big fan of GK and Friends, is that Our Host helps us to get outside of our boxes!
Yes
Just the reminder I needed as I embark tomorrow on a series of flights that will deposit me in Paris for a visit I have looked forward to for 50 years! Cheerful will hardly describe my feelings. I just need to remember to project those feelings for the benefit of other travelers.
I have just returned from a trip to Paris,then Tours,then Nimes visiting families I knew in my U.S.Army days 1953,54. Paris,.and Gare de Lyon we're chaotic,not cheerful. I wish you better luck.........Bob
2016, flying from Duluth for the first time, headed to Chicago. Once through security in Duluth’s small airport I see a table with shoehorns, some of them the long style, so no bending over needed. I observe to the nearest officer that in no other airport have I ever seen the courtesy of shoehorns for those who are putting their shoes back on. “That’s Minnesota nice, right there,” she replied.
I just love hearing your voice...this small thing makes me smile.
We are no longer considered dangerous by the TSA when we hit 75? This is a great insult.
Yes, there is something surreal about saying Good Morning to a stranger and Thank You to a stranger when it seems totally out of character to the speaker. Sure as hell, it makes you feel better about yourself and the world in general whether it matters or not in the big picture. Thanks GK.
Mr Garrison, I can’t believe I found you after all this time. I felt like I lost that good mannered friend I used to listen to on the radio every Saturday and sure did miss him. Had no idea you’d be on Substack and it makes me happy we’ve’re-connected’! Thank for being here! Stay around for a long time!
There are time when our advancing age is a boon, especially when less detectable.
In a medical clinic elevator, 5 of us.
Everyone so quiet, looking inward and gloomy. As we reached the third floor, I said, “Third floor. Lingerie. Next floor, Menswear.”
Everyone turned to me and started to laugh. One fellow from the last century (mine) said: “Wow. Did THAT take me back!” And he departed, still smiling.
Way fun..
When I attended the Slavic Full Gospel Church, for religious refugees from the Former Soviet Union, occasionally we had visitors “on a book-selling circuit.” They would have small books that could be fitted into a shirt pocket for sale. The goal, of course, was to generate enough income to travel around the U.S. and visit refugee communities here. One of our visitors was promoting his biographical “Escape From Buchenwald.” Our pastor called me and said “Susannah! You’ve got to come this Wednesday and hear this visitor!” So, of course, I went. I bought a copy of his book, and ended up driving him past Niagara Falls (with a tourist stop so he could say he’d actually seen the falls), to a Slavic Pentecostal church in northern Ohio.
When I got back, I decided I needed a “code-breaker” to figure out the text of his book. I asked Brother Stephen to help me. Stephen’s family had come to the US when he was ten years old, so he was elegantly bilingual. “Dub!” I’d read. “What’s a Dub?” I asked Stephen. “Well. Normally, that means an oak tree. However, in slang, it’s pretty close to “Block-head” – and oak is one of the densest types of wood around.”
With Stephen’s help, I worked my way through this former prisoner’s tale of escape. He had chosen a time when the guards were celebrating at a party, and left through a gap in the chain link fencing that surrounded the prison camp. Once he was out, however, how was he going to survive? He found a farmer’s shed with sacks of potatoes. By then he was nearly starving, so he took a sack and headed off to a quiet hilltop where he could keep watch for pursuers. He sat on a rock that worked as a chair, and opened the sack. The potatoes had green color mixed in with the skin. He knew that eating green potatoes could cause upset stomachs, or worse. But there he was! How could he remove the skins? He prayed, “Oh Lord, if only I had a knife!” And, Lo and Behold! When he opened his eyes and looked around, he saw a small, folded pocketknife lying just a few feet away in the sand! He took that as a sign that the Lord would take care of him and lead him to freedom! And, Lo and Behold! That’s just what the Lord did! The escaped Christian was taken in by one rural family of Believers after another. He would stay in their lean-tos of poles in the woods for a night, then be guided to the next safe haven. Eventually he reached the Black Sea. He was able to hide in a small fishing boat, pass through the Dardanelles, and come to shore in the Free World! From there, a missionary society sponsored his trip through North America, and printed his booklet for him as a source of funds.
One thing that many folks in the Free World may not be aware of, is that being a Christian can be a cause for imprisonment in the Former Soviet Union. I’ve gone to Assemblies where formerly imprisoned Christians have given witness to life in a Siberian Prison Camp. At one of these meetings, I met a man whose hands had been severely frostbitten in the cold. He had stubs of one finger bone each, rather than the normal three bones for the 8 longer fingers, and two for the thumbs. That’s another thing those of us who are “normal” probably never think about! How can you handle things if your fingers can’t curl and clutch things? This man “Got along somehow…”, but, for example, he couldn’t turn the page in a book.
Sometimes, folks might wonder “Why do you write about Russians?” I think it helps us to consider “Diversity” if we become aware that not everyone thinks, or acts, or has access to the same experiences in life. One of the reasons I’m such a big fan of GK and Friends, is that Our Host helps us to get outside of our boxes!