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ENLARGE
I WAS JUST THINKIN'
Glen McAdoo
I am not a Biblical scholar but it seems that Luke 6:38,”Give and it will be given to you,” might be germane to the story which I am going to share with you today. I have shared part of this story concerning my uncle Harry with you before. Now the ending to the story has been written. I feel it was written by a hand far more powerful than my woefully inadequate endeavors illustrate.
Some years ago there was a family reunion here in Fallon at my home. My mother, her two brothers, Robert (with his wife Lois and my Uncle Harry along with my sister and her husband) were all here.
My two uncles were both pretty darn good guitar pickers in their day. Robert, nearing 90, still picks and grins till this day. While they were here I brought out my old Gibson, my pride and joy, and we all took turns playing. They were so much better than me. To his surprise Uncle Harry could still play.
Uncle Harry had Parkinson's disease and had given away his Gibson, which was almost identical to mine, years ago thinking he could no longer play. But he could. It made him feel so good to play again. There was only one thing to do. I gave him my Gibson and he took it home with him to Eugene, Ore. He promised that upon his death he would see that it was returned to me. Unfortunately, his son never made such a promise and when Uncle Harry died some years ago he refused to honor his “fathers wishes” and return the guitar to me.
And now the end of this story has been written in a most unbelievable and miraculous way. My bother-in-law, who was here when I gave my Gibson to Uncle Harry, lives in Miles City, Mont. He works part time at the landfill outside of town. He only works a couple of days a week. The odds that what I am about to share with you would have happened at all are astronomical. The odds that it would have happened on a day he was working are not believable. But it did happen.
Someone pulled up to the landfill site and threw into my brother-in-law Bob's sight a guitar case and drove away. He opened the case and inside was a brand new Yamaha acoustical guitar. ( I'm getting blurry eyed writing this.) I probably don't need to tell you the rest of the story but I will.
He boxed it up and sent it to me. When I called to thank him, he told me he felt that guitar was intended for his Bubba (he calls me Bubba). He truly believed it was destiny. So do I. Believe what you will, but things happen that have no other explanation other than that there is a force far more powerful, more caring, more loving and all knowledgeable at work setting things right in this world. It may seem like such a little thing but it was nevertheless the hand of the almighty at work. I believe that. Some who have heard me play and sing might think otherwise (ha). Not me.
We must believe that someday things will be right in this world. The sick will get well and the blind will see. The rich will become generous and the poor will no longer be have-nots. Nations will learn to live in peace and joy shall cover the earth. We must believe. We must. It's called faith.
It will be almost Thanksgiving by the time this column appears in the newspaper. Old bleeding heart Bubba McAdoo hopes each of you will give thanks for all we have and not curse that which we have not.
Give thanks for those you love and have loved that have gone on to a better place. Remember to store your riches with the almighty and not here on earth. Share what you have with others and you will be blessed.
Do not grow weary in your care for the less fortunate, for someone also watches over you.
I've tuned up the Yamaha and am trying to play again. I was never very good but trying to play with soft fingers is darn near impossible. I've got to get busy because my sis and Bob are coming here next spring. I've got to be able to play by then. Perhaps my sis and I can sing a duet. Years ago, I would strum my old Gibson as my mom, sis and I sang “Precious Lord take my hand” in church.
Glen McAdoo, a Fallon resident, can be reached at glynn@phonewave.net.
Some years ago there was a family reunion here in Fallon at my home. My mother, her two brothers, Robert (with his wife Lois and my Uncle Harry along with my sister and her husband) were all here.
My two uncles were both pretty darn good guitar pickers in their day. Robert, nearing 90, still picks and grins till this day. While they were here I brought out my old Gibson, my pride and joy, and we all took turns playing. They were so much better than me. To his surprise Uncle Harry could still play.
Uncle Harry had Parkinson's disease and had given away his Gibson, which was almost identical to mine, years ago thinking he could no longer play. But he could. It made him feel so good to play again. There was only one thing to do. I gave him my Gibson and he took it home with him to Eugene, Ore. He promised that upon his death he would see that it was returned to me. Unfortunately, his son never made such a promise and when Uncle Harry died some years ago he refused to honor his “fathers wishes” and return the guitar to me.
And now the end of this story has been written in a most unbelievable and miraculous way. My bother-in-law, who was here when I gave my Gibson to Uncle Harry, lives in Miles City, Mont. He works part time at the landfill outside of town. He only works a couple of days a week. The odds that what I am about to share with you would have happened at all are astronomical. The odds that it would have happened on a day he was working are not believable. But it did happen.
Someone pulled up to the landfill site and threw into my brother-in-law Bob's sight a guitar case and drove away. He opened the case and inside was a brand new Yamaha acoustical guitar. ( I'm getting blurry eyed writing this.) I probably don't need to tell you the rest of the story but I will.
He boxed it up and sent it to me. When I called to thank him, he told me he felt that guitar was intended for his Bubba (he calls me Bubba). He truly believed it was destiny. So do I. Believe what you will, but things happen that have no other explanation other than that there is a force far more powerful, more caring, more loving and all knowledgeable at work setting things right in this world. It may seem like such a little thing but it was nevertheless the hand of the almighty at work. I believe that. Some who have heard me play and sing might think otherwise (ha). Not me.
We must believe that someday things will be right in this world. The sick will get well and the blind will see. The rich will become generous and the poor will no longer be have-nots. Nations will learn to live in peace and joy shall cover the earth. We must believe. We must. It's called faith.
It will be almost Thanksgiving by the time this column appears in the newspaper. Old bleeding heart Bubba McAdoo hopes each of you will give thanks for all we have and not curse that which we have not.
Give thanks for those you love and have loved that have gone on to a better place. Remember to store your riches with the almighty and not here on earth. Share what you have with others and you will be blessed.
Do not grow weary in your care for the less fortunate, for someone also watches over you.
I've tuned up the Yamaha and am trying to play again. I was never very good but trying to play with soft fingers is darn near impossible. I've got to get busy because my sis and Bob are coming here next spring. I've got to be able to play by then. Perhaps my sis and I can sing a duet. Years ago, I would strum my old Gibson as my mom, sis and I sang “Precious Lord take my hand” in church.
Glen McAdoo, a Fallon resident, can be reached at glynn@phonewave.net.
