I was born in Rumford, down south a bit, but I moved here when I was two or three. So, I pretty much grew up in Mars Hill—this town has always been home. Some of my earliest and happiest memories are from time spent at my grandparents' house. They had a three-season porch with an old cot where I’d take naps, and I even liked sleeping down in the basement by the old wringer washer. I always remember the smell of cookies and the simple joy of being there.
Our
family life was simple, but full. I remember picnics after church—those were
big in our family. All the kids would run around while the adults visited. It
was a good time, with cousins and neighbors all gathered. I grew up in a big
neighborhood full of kids. We always had someone to play with.
I
was raised in the Mars Hill Methodist Church, and so were my parents and
grandparents. I can still picture my grandmother humming hymns as she worked in
the kitchen or garden. It wasn’t until I went to church that I realized, “Oh!
That’s what she was singing!” I remember thinking the church was huge when I
was little. Sunday School was exciting—we got to go upstairs into our own rooms
with those brightly colored chairs. I especially loved making crafts to give to
my grandmother. That building, that church—it holds so much of my life.
Over
the years, I helped with repairs at the church—removing pews, refinishing wood,
adding cushions. I even helped take out the rail and fix the hymnals. The
church hasn’t changed much in looks, but it’s stood the test of time. It’s been
a place of belonging.
As
a young man, I was involved in the youth group and Boy Scouts, which met in the
church too. Later, I helped with Thanksgiving dinners and community events.
That building has seen a lot of life and love.
But
life isn’t without its hard times. One of the toughest seasons for me was going
through a divorce. It was sudden and painful. I had no family or friends
nearby, no transportation, no place to stay—just the clothes I had on. But somehow,
God got me through. I found places to sleep, walked to work, and eventually
decided to return home. That decision shaped the rest of my life.
After
coming home, I had my children for the summer. My ex-wife later decided she
didn’t want them anymore, so they came to live with me full time. Around that
time, my daughter became friends with Bonnie’s daughter. Bonnie lived down the
street, and that’s how we met. After her own divorce and surgery, Bonnie and I
got to know each other better, and we’ve been together ever since— 37 years
now.
We
took in many kids over the years—some through foster care, some informally. One
girl, Melissa, came into our lives through our daughter’s friendship. She
didn’t know anyone on the coast, and she needed a home. She graduated with
honors. I worked in a boarding home for mentally challenged young adults, and
Bonnie worked in a group home for children. Through our jobs, we were
introduced to more kids who needed love and stability. At one point, we took in
a young boy who was a real handful. We had to fight for him to have one more
chance, and when we brought him home, he challenged us in every way.
We
also fostered two siblings who were going to be separated. It wasn’t
easy—teenagers with trauma, lots of damage to the house—but it felt right. We
did it for the kids, and also for our own children, so they could see what life
is like for others. Some of the most rewarding moments were the little
ones—small improvements, a child finally opening up, a meal shared in peace.
At
one point, Bonnie and I even worked as estate caretakers in Massachusetts for
nearly 19 years. It was a different world—far from what we were used to—but we
had each other. We lived on the estate, had Wednesdays and Sundays off, and
worked side-by-side. We were around gardeners, painters, and all kinds of
people. That season of life taught us the value of communication, trust, and
sharing—sharing everything: emotions, time, money, and space.
We’ve
talked a lot about what makes a strong marriage, and I always come back to
this: communication and sharing. We never had “his” and “hers”
finances. We shared everything—family, joy, struggles. That’s what made our
bond strong.
Some
of the hardest moments I’ve faced were the passing of my parents. My dad
eventually moved into a small apartment after selling the family home. One day,
during a cribbage game, he simply said, “I don’t want to live this way
anymore.” He felt like he was becoming a burden. Not long after that, my mother
passed too. I used to visit her every morning on my way to work. The one
morning I didn’t—that was the day she died. She was ready to be with Dad.
In
the midst of all that loss, God’s presence was real. Faith is what held me up.
I’ve never had much stress about things like jobs or where life would take me.
I always just trusted God. And somehow, I always found work—jobs I’d never done
before, but I figured them out. I didn’t worry too much, and it all worked out.
That’s how faith has carried me.
When
I think about my family now—my kids, grandkids, and even great-grandkids—my biggest hope is that they come to know
Jesus. It’s a tough world out there, especially for the young ones. There’s
so much distraction and drift. I just hope that little by little, they remember
what matters.
If
I’ve learned one thing in life, it’s this: don’t overlook the little things.
Those small acts of kindness, little decisions, and moments of care—they add
up. Just be kind. Be a friend. Love your neighbor. Don’t carry hate; it’ll drag
you down. Love covers a lot of ground. That’s what makes life good.
As
for how I’d like to be remembered? I’d like to be remembered as someone who cared—for my family, for
others, for my community. I always tried to live by this: if you can’t get
along, move along. Some folks may drift in and out of your life, but I
always told them, “You know where I live.” I was always open to reconciliation.
Life
isn’t always easy. You don’t know what each day will bring. But if you keep
your trust in God, and believe He already knows what’s ahead, you can face
whatever comes. That’s how I’ve lived. Just one day at a time, with faith,
love, and a willingness to care.
Comments
Post a Comment