Submitted 1/15/18 by Candy Richey

     We had just left Costco in south Tulsa and got onto the Creek Turnpike, and in doing my accelleration onto the highway, I got going too fast and let off of the gas just before seeing officer Hoyt of the Oklahoma HIghway Patrol. He followed me a bit, and I am sure ran my record to see I wasn't a threat to society, then pulled me over. While I had reduced my speed from the original get on, he had clocked me at above the speed limit. He went to his car with my drivers license, then came back and kindly gave me a warning. Thank you Trooper Hoyt, your kindness was much appreciated.

 

Submitted 1/3/18

     Mr. Johnny Jennings age 86 has been collecting recycling since 1985 and donating all the money that he receives from recycling to the Georgia Baptist Home for Children. Mr. Jennings has worn out 3 trucks and countless sets of tires.  In 2016, Mr Jennings donated just enough money to make his grand total donated $400,000.00!!! Yes you read that right!!! Mr. Jennings age 86 has donated $400,000.00 to the Georgia Baptist Home for Children over a time frame of 32 years! That is a lot of paper and aluminum cans for sure...

This is his Recycling Report for 2016....

Paper Sold  401,280 lbs (201 tons)

Aluminum Cans 51,565 (cans)

Pennies collected 32,040

Total for 32 years

Total Paper Sold  9,810,063 lbs

Total Pennies $20,275.20 = 24 miles

Trees Saved 79,000

 

     Monday - Friday you will likely see Mr. Jennings driving around town picking up paper from local businesses and churches and taking it to the Chattanooga Recycle Center on Central Avenue. From there he will head home and load the truck up again with recyclables that people have dropped off at his house. Mr. Jennings normally loads his truck by himself and that is a job in it's self and did I mention he is 86 years old and had 2 mini strokes two weeks ago and when he got home from the hospital he didn't let that stop him from getting back to his paper route? That is just how he is and he will not stop until the undertaker turns his toes up! That is what he tells everyone!

    I hope you see why I think Mr. Johnny Jennings story needs to be told as it is a good one. He is the last of a dying breed. Our generation and the ones to follow could learn a lot from Mr. Jennings.

 

“The meaning of life is to find your gift. The purpose of life is to give it away.” Pablo Picasso... This is Mr. Jennings favorite quote and he sure does live by it.......

 

Submitted for Tyrone Means, 12/17/17

Tyrone Means found himself outside a convenience store recently, when an elderly couple exited and went to their car. As they approached the car, the woman fell to the ground. Tyrone rushed over to help and found her not breathing, nor was her heart beating. She was clinically dead. Tyrone rushed into action and began administering CPR when her husband began a barrage of racial slurs, telling Tyrone to leave his wife alone. The old man went back into the store, and Tyrone asked a bystander who had come to help, to call 911. The old man returned with a clerk of the store, and ask the clerk if he didn't have someone else who could help, he didn't want this black man to touch his wife. He continued to call Tyrone all sorts of vile names and telling him to leave his wife alone. Tyrone told the man if he stopped the CPR she would die. He continued the CPR, the old man continued the bigotted barrage. Finally the paramedics arrived, stabilized the woman and transported her to the hospital. The old man never said thank you, he just kept staring at Tyrone with venomnous hatred.

Tyrone, you are a man of dignity and grace, and for all of humanity I want to say thank you for your kindness, thank your for ignoring an ignorant man, and thank you for being a stellar human being. You will always be a man who holds his head high in the confidence that you live your life in a manner we should all emulate.

 

Submitted by Dick of Verdigris, Oklahoma   12/6/17

Our Twins They came to us 10 weeks early, Granddaughters Paige and Shelby did. Paige at 2lbs-13 oz. and Shelby at 2lbs-2 oz. For the first 4 months of our twin’s lives, the family lived with them in our minds and our hearts full of prayers that both would be allowed to be with us in healthy conditions. Each day we inquired of the nurses if the girls were gaining weight with us hoping for a sign that our twins were indeed moving toward what we all wanted. Them at home with the family. Some days they both showed some good activities, but other days, not so. Paige was gaining strength and weight, but Shelby fell behind. Found out that the girls were getting transfusions which made the twin’s days more comfortable during the time that any good news would drive our hopes higher than justified, but then, they were our twins. "Transfusions", that was the key word that I personally needed to hear. For many years I had been giving blood on a regular basis because I was designated by the Red Cross to be O- and CMV negative. CMV (cytomegalovirus) antibody negative allowed my O- blood to be used by newborns; yes our twins could be benefited by their Papa donating blood to them. The Red Cross kindly gave me the information that I could again give blood and that my blood would be designated to be given to our twins. Paige was doing better, but Shelby just wouldn’t make it because her sweet little heart wasn’t fully developed. Shelby surely had to share my blood just to get her to the day that the family members could finally go into the nursery room and hold her, along with Paige, in our arms. As it was with Paige, I couldn’t take my eyes off of Shelby and I talked to her as if she was all mine. With my hand, I moved the light weight blanket away from her face and now witnessed her little hand wrapping around my “pinky” finger with undeniable strength and intent to say, “thank you Papa”. Yes, we were now of one blood and of one destiny to be together forever more. During a later day, Paige got her ride home but Shelby was never to leave the hospital the way her sister did. The day came when Shelby would once again be placed in each family member’s arms so that each could experience that lonely felt goodbye we all knew was coming. I was seated to receive her after 4 others were able to hold the lifeless little body that had fought so hard to stay with us. Shelby's Uncle Bret had not arrived when she was cradled in my arms for the last time. At the moment that little body touched me, a warm spirit was infused inside of me and caused the words, “My God”, to be released from my lips. A few moments after, Bret arrived and was seated next to me, I passed Shelby to him. I was sensitive to all emotions that came from Bret, then, he immediately said, “My God”. I knew it was true that Shelby’s spirit was available from God to be infused into each of us in the room.

Paige was diagnosed with Cerebral Palsy in a mild form of bent knees, which is common for premature babies. However, this girl has been President of her High School Senior Class and a straight “A” student. She has often been voted the most popular and she plays soccer. The patrons in the stands hollered her name in support each time she has a chance for some action with the soccer ball. She is loved and adored by many because of her positive drive for goodwill with her friends and family. Today Paige is a winner of several scholarships and is enrolled in a premed school with desires to obtain a degree in Neurosurgery. Shelby? Well her little body is beneath her headstone in the baby’s portion of the burial grounds. Her spirit is always with us where ever we are; her soul is with her Lord Jesus. Got a feelin’ that her little hand has wrapped around His “pinky” finger. Brother, Clay “Shelby” McGuire was born 2-1/2 years later.

Submitted by Dick of Verdigris, Oklahoma   12/6/17

In the early 60's I was setting in the barber shop on the west side of town waiting for my turn to be "trimmed". Needing to pass time I picked up a magazine and saw a presented story titled "The Love Letter". As I read that story of a most kind event that was carried out to benefit an elderly gentleman, it sank deep within my memory, not word by word, but the story itself. Recently I felt compelled to recover the jest of the story as I remembered it. Now, more than 50 years have passed and I'm presenting that story here and in the first person as if I really was that person that experienced the event that is presented. The Love Letter Walking along a sidewalk in the downtown area of my town, I noticed a partially folded envelope just off the sidewalk. As I got close to the envelope I noticed what appeared to be a one cent stamp on the envelope. Thinking that the old stamp might be worth more than just a penny, I stopped and picked up the envelope so to tear off the stamp for safe keeping. The fraying of the folds on the envelope made me conclude it had been folded and unfolded many times. The envelope was slightly open so I stuck my index finger into the envelope to get a firm grip ready to tear off the stamp; but then, that index finger touched a paper inside the envelope and stopped my intent to tear off that stamp. I removed the one page paper from the envelope and realized it was a short letter with a date on it indicating it was written several decades earlier. My curiosity caused me to start reading the letter. It started with a man’s name and seemed to be a sincere letter of admiration. Now I’m really interested in the content of this old letter, what it said and who may have written the letter. It had endearing words that expressed a deep love written with beautiful handwriting that let me know it was from a young lady smitten by, and in love with, the boy it was written to. Each word caused a stronger than usual beat of my heart as if I was the chosen boy to receive this letter. However, the last sentence of the letter were words totally out of character from the rest of the writing. My heart was hurt reading such words telling him not to try to see her again. Her first name signature ended the letter. After that moment of bewilderment I looked at the address to whom the letter was written and saw that the location was within my hometown, and the return address was also near my town. Now the envelope and its contained letter found itself moving deeper into my heart such that I knew I was to locate the owner of this letter and give it back to him. The address wasn’t too far from where I stood, so I walked a quick pace to his residence only to be staring at a commercial building where once stood his home. I was not to stop; I immediately turned in the direction of the city court house and rushed to the records clerk’s office to gather what information might exist that could identify where he was now living, if he was still alive. The Clerk did say, “Yes, several years ago the house on the property had been torn down and a building permit was issued for the existing commercial building.” However, the clerk suggested that I check with the driver’s license office to see if their records may help. “Yes, we have recently issued a new driver's license for an elderly gentleman by that name” was heard from the lady in the driver’s license office. She continued with, “As a matter of fact here is his given address should you wish to write it down”. My mission in mind was to return this love letter to the man who it belong to, so I drove to that new address. Parked the car in front of a retirement home, got out and walked through the front door up to the receptionist desk. “May I help you sir?” was her greeting. “Yes, do you have a gentleman living here with this name?” showing her the name on the front of the envelope. “Why, yes sir we do. He moved into our retirement home less than a month ago. What might be your need with him?” she asked. I replied that, “I found this envelope that is addressed to him and I thought he may have dropped it and would appreciate having it back in his possession.” “Well, if you’ll watch the desk here I’ll go to his apartment and if he will comeback with me you can see if he wants that envelope you have there.” She offered. Soon the receptionist had returned with a stately looking older man that walked straight toward me and said, “Young man, this lady here said that you wanted to talk to me.” At that moment I felt that I may have reached my goal to find the owner of this love letter, so I said, “Sir, I found this envelope today and I thought you might want it back.” This stately old man lowered his head and said, “Oh my, oh my goodness, I thought that I would never see my letter again. Thank you son, thank you so much” I could have been wrong, but I think I saw tears come into his eyes. “Sir, I hope that I’ve not done wrong, but, I read the letter that is inside the envelope, was that Ok?” He said, “Sure son, it’s Ok” I now needed to know more so I asked him, “Sir, that letter was from someone that had expressed a lot of love for you, but at the end of the letter there are words that just don’t go with all of the rest that was written, so sir, is there a story that you might be willing to tell me before I leave?” He smiled, but with a furrowed brow he said, “I loved her so much and she loved me. I was soon to be at the age of 20 and she was only 15. Before she wrote the letter she had told me that her parents were upset at the difference in our ages and gave strong indication that they were not allowing her to see me again. The words in the last sentence were confirming the strong words she had received from her parents. I was so heartbroken that only if I was to leave this town would I be able to resist seeking to be with her, somehow. So, I left home at the earliest and haven’t been back all these years until a couple of weeks ago.” I had to ask the obvious question, “But sir, didn’t you marry and have a family?” “No, she was the love of my life; no, I never sought to marry.” I mentioned to the old gentleman that I appreciated him telling me the story and said that I might try to find out what happened to his life-long love. He replied that he was fearful of what news I might bring back so he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. After writing down the return address that was on the envelope I shook his hand not knowing I’d be back. I turned to the receptionist to say good-by and noticed the diamonds in her eyes with a couple of them flowing down her cheeks. She too had been touched by his story. The next day I traveled where the writer of the love letter had lived and stopped at the house located rural of my town. As I approached the front porch a middle aged couple greeted me. I told them the story and asked if they had any knowledge of the lady that had written the letter. They told me that they had purchased the home from a person of that name some years ago and speculated where I might gain more information about her. The next day I was back at the retirement home and asked the receptionist if she remembered me. “Oh yes”, was her answer. “I’ll never forget those moments”. I told her that I had some information about the young girl who wrote the gentlemen the love letter many years ago, and then I asked her, “Would you be willing to help me prepare to give the gentleman the news about her should he decide to hear?” “Yes, I hope that it is good news” she said. After we had worked out the way to best tell him of the information, the receptionist left to get the old man while I kept repeating what to say to him so that he would accept it in the best possible way. Once he appeared, he stopped, looked at me with a drooped head and furrowed brow that showed concern. He then straighten up showing the desire to get this over with and walked a straight line to me. “Well, young man, what am I to hear?” “Sir, it would be best if we were to set down on the sofa in the lounge area before I tell you about her”. We sat down facing each other. He quickly said, “Alright son, no matter what it is you need to tell me, please do it now”. I leaned to the right and said, “Sir, look past my left shoulder. Do you see that lady setting in that chair behind me? That’s her, sir. She lives here, and also, she never married” Two weeks later, at that retirement home, there was a wedding.

 

Submitted by Dick of Verdigris, Oklahoma   12/6/17

She was a twirler for the high school band. In the spring of our Senior Year, she and I had a confrontation. We didn't see "eye to eye" on a subject, as a matter of fact, we were standing eye to eye during the confrontation. For the rest of the year she never said anything to me, nor I, to her. In the year of 64, I saw her on the college campus; had the tendency to turn and walk away, but instead, my heart chose to walk to her. Once there I said, "Mary, I regret we had that moment of disagreement". In her sweet voice, she said, "Thanks Dick, I regret that moment too". In silence I looked into her beautiful light blue eyes, smiled, then saw one coming back to me. No longer was there to be the guilt in the loss of this friend. Never again did I see Mary, but within that short moment she had kindly removed an item from my drawer of regrets and placed it into my drawer of forgiveness. At a high school reunion I was told that Mary had married, moved to California and, during her young age, died of Cancer. She was Mary, Mary Thompson.

 

Submitted by Dick of Verdigris, Oklahoma   12/6/17

It was in the mid 90's that Grandma called me to say that her good friend Vy had a couple of burial lots in the Tulsa Memorial Park Cemetery and were no longer needed. Grandma asked if Linda and I would be interested in considering talking to Vy about them. It happened that Linda and I had previously discussed the subject because we were approaching the age needing to consider where we would want to be buried. So, it was good timing for Vy. When she called, Vy gave me a reasonable price and I said yes, but Vy kindly said she wanted to show me the location within the Memorial Park before I was to make a final decision. Our arrangement was to meet the next day at the Park's office and go from there to the location of the burial lots. I had never met Vy before, but when I did, Vy was as she should have been; maybe only 5 feet tall, rounded shoulders and gray haired as any 86 year old Jewish lady would be. She had a sweet smile and disposition; made me want to hug her as I would my own grandmother. She began to talk about her family as soon as I helped her into my car. “Now, go up there”, she said as she pointed to the hill located just south of the office we had just left. A right turn here and a left turn there got us to the point she said was just below the location of the burial lots. As I helped Vy out of the car and began walking up the gentle slope she was quite in the kindly way that certainly told me she was traditionally respectful to all those previously departed that she was to pass on the way to the top of the hill. Once we reached the top, Vy said, “Well we're here; now look over there” as she pointed to the valley in the Park to the east. “Isn't that pretty with the winding road through the tall trees? It's such a beautiful sight, don't you think?” “Yes Vy, it is”, I said. “However, the one thing about this location I don't like,” said Vy, “is the noise of the traffic on Memorial Drive. Does that concern you?” “I don't think so,” I said, “but if I should get hungry I could just walk across Memorial and get something to eat at that grocery store.” Vy didn't seem to pick up on that delivery of my humor. Vy looked down at the headstones that were around us and begin to point to one then another as she named who was where. “My husband is over there and those two places are my daughter and her husband. Now, right here are the two lots I want to sell. They are right next to where I'll be buried, does that bother you any?” Vy asked. I wasn't gonna’ let this opportunity go by, so I answered, “Vy, only if you have cold feet!” There was silence as I looked down at this sweet, sincere little Jewish lady. But soon her gray haired head slowly rose up to the point that her eyes were meeting mine. I witnessed a facial expression that began to brighten as though her face was birthing a new star. From this traditionally respectful little being came the most wonderful, hardy laugh that filled all the lower heavens; Vy finally realized the comic environment we had been producing and shared together as though we were on a Vaudeville stage. My moments with her were too short, but they had rewarded me with a memory of this kind lady named Vy. Submitted by Kateri of Tulsa, Oklahoma

Submitted

 by Kateri of Tulsa, Oklahoma

 

Kindness Story: So happy for my daughters who love so much. They have kind words for their family and friends, work so hard in school and on the job. Just cannot wait to see their lives fill with joy in all their relationships.