My Story #59 - "Black Keys Only"

  

My Story #59

BLACK KEYS ONLY

At 10 years old I was not a very good pianist, but I played piano all the time. I was learning melodies often, but I knew nothing about harmony or chords.

Gum Lick Baptist Church needed a piano player, and the word got out that I could play piano, so my parents were approached about my coming to church there to play piano for them for a while, which I did.

Little did they know that I had no idea that songs were written in different key signatures. Since I played in what I later learned was 6 Flats (almost all black notes), every song was sung in this key of G Flat (I think).

Sometimes the congregation were singing so low that they could hardly make a sound; other times they were singing so high that they were nearly screaming. I was never scolded nor ridiculed for my playing, so we just went through this spell of singing too high and too low.

I don't know how many people would even remember those days, but I am sure that someone somewhere remembers the highs and lows of that experience.

Now that I have learned more about chords and key signatures, I can more easily adjust for highs and lows. By the way, I no longer play in G Flat (ever) unless it is for fun. God is gracious.

 

My Story #58 - "What Is That?"

 

My Story #58

WHAT IS THAT?

When we lived in Chesapeake, Ohio, my wife sometimes cooked sausage and apples together. One day she did that and sat the dish on the table.

One of my little boys said, "What is that?" I said, "Those are sausages." He said, "Ostriches?" My other son said, "No, silly, they're hostages."

 

My Story #57 - Supper With Bluegrass Boys

 

My Story #57

Supper With Bluegrass Boys

One never knows what kind of conversations can be had when the Bluegrass Boys Quartet eat together. It doesn't matter whether others are there of not; we always have much to say. We tell stories from events in the past, discuss how to solve certain problems we may have, or just say funny things and laugh.

Either Friday or Saturday evening we were eating at Bob Evans Restaurant, and Bob Jones brought up the story about the quartet's going to a small church in Kentucky which was hard to reach. We drove so far; then we had to get out and walk. He told about how we were walking where it had rained, and the ground was really muddy. He said that, when I was walking, my crutches sank into the ground almost up to my hands. Then, he said, Demas Brubacher came back to try to help me to get the crutches out of the mud, and with both of our working, it was almost impossible to do it. I suppose everything worked out all right, because I am here today. Then he said that, when we got to the church, we had to break into the building. Then, he said, I took the piano apart to work on it before we sang. Now, that I did from time to time, scaring some of the members to death; but I would never damage a piano, as you can image.

Bob Jones is the one who asked me to write this today, so here it is for what it is worth. I just say, "Stay out of the mud, and don't tear pianos apart. You will live longer, no doubt.

 

My Story #56

Ronnie W. Wolfe
How Many Falls? God Is Good!

I have fallen many times in my life. I can remember a few. I have already mentioned the time that I was going to the barn to see my father, but I tripped on the step own from our front porch and fell on a huge rock and landed on my nose. My nose bled, but I was all right after a little while. God is good!

When I was about seven years old, my brother and I were going to the neighbor's house to do some work, and my brother placed me neatly into the basket on his bicycle. Then we took off up the road. When we got near the neighbor's house, my brother said, "How am I going to stop and get you out of that basket?" I said, "I don't know." Then he turned his bike to the left, went to the side of the road and kept going until he ran into a fence. I was dropped across the fence onto the ground in some very soft grass. Isn't God good!

My sister and I were at the creek with my parents when a storm was coming up, and my sister and I got on a horse together to go to the house per our parents' instructions. As we we going up the hill, a limb hit me in the head, and I fell off the horse onto a pile of rocks. I got up and walked the rest of the way. Isn't God good!

In 12th grade, we had to go downstairs to prepare some things for our graduation, and I lost my balance and fell down about 12-13 concrete steps. I remember only getting up and going on safely. Isn't God good!

In Lexington, living in an upstairs room, I began to go down the steps to go to work, and I hooked my crutch handle in my coat pocket and pulled myself down the steps, and I rolled down the steps and landed on the floor. Both my arms were paralyzed. No one was home with me. I lay there for a couple of minutes, and my arms began to tingle. Then, after a few more minutes, I could move my arms. After somewhere between five and ten minutes, I got up and went on to work. Isn't God good!

Well, God is good no matter what may have happened in my falls, but you know that I am thankful that God has taken care of his old sinner all of these years. I know the Lord is with me, and I trust him. God is really good to his saints.

 

Three Lost Boys

 My Story #54

Three Lost Boys

Once in about 1980-81, my wife and I had put to bed three cute little boys, which were ages about 4, 5, and 7, the day had wound down, and my wife and I had settled down for a nice rest for the night.

But before we were in our bed to sleep for the night, the phone rang, and the party on the other end of the call was a neighbor and a member of the church that I pastured at that time. He said, "Are you missing some boys?" I said, "No, my boys are in bed asleep." He answered, "Well, there are three little boys here in my living room that look a lot like your three little boys."

Stunned and confused, I went into the bedroom where my boys were supposed to be asleep and noticed that there was not even one little boy there. Well, you can image how confused and anxious I was.

When my wife and I got to the neighbor's house, he told us that the oldest boy told them that I said they could come to his house, which, of course, I did not. I took the boys home and scolded them straightly with a little fear in my heart, because the road that they had walked down to get to the neighbor's house was a very busy road with a lot of traffic.

Now, this is only the beginning of the story. A month or two later my wife and I stopped at a house in the town to visit a yard sale. I told the lady who I was, and she said, "Oh, you are the one who has the three little boys who walked down the road to the neighbor's house running away from home, aren't you?" I said, "How do you know about that?" She answered, "Well, nearly everyone in town knows about that!"

Boy, what a reputation an innocent pastor can get just because he has three little boys who tried to run away from home. I shall never live this down--now I am telling everyone about it myself! How about that?

 

My Story #53

 Ronnie W. Wolfe

Trip Of A Lifetime

I do not remember the year, but our quartet was scheduled to travel to Hollywood, Florida, for a revival meeting. I left Chesapeake, Ohio, where I was pasturing to drive to Lexington, Kentucky, to pick up Wayne Hart so we could travel together to Florida.

Once in the car I began to drive, and Wayne sat in the passenger's seat and talked and talked with me until we reached somewhere near Atlanta, Georgia. I asked Wayne if he wanted to get a motel room and spend the night to break up our trip. He said he would drive a while if we could just keep going. I agreed, and Wayne got into the driver's seat and began to drive.

Wayne drove for about 1 1/2 hours and woke me up and said, "I am getting really sleepy. I don't think I can drive any farther." So, we stopped and switched back so I could drive. I drove all the way from that point to our destination.

It was early in the morning when we reached the church. We went through the day visiting with people after a short nap and later had a wonderful dinner. Then we went to church for a long service.

After church, I went into the room the church provided for me, and I went to sleep. I slept all night. When I awoke the next morning, I ate a little breakfast and then went back to bed. I slept all night and nearly all day every day throughout that week, because I was simply exhausted. I don't believe I have been the same since.

We made it through the week and got back home safe. It was a good meeting, and I am thankful. But I will never again take on a venture like this one. I don't think Wayne would have, either.

 

My Story #53

 

Dream, Disaster, And Delight

Dream

Dreams seemed to be a pattern in my life as in my mother's. Some of these dreams seemed to come true. One dream I shall never forget if I live to be 1,000 years old.

Before I was married, I lived with my mother for about two years after my father died. While living there, a small boy named David was our next-door neighbor. He and I became friends, and he came to my mother's house almost every day to be with us. Sometimes he would eat with us, and once in a while he would stay all night.

One night, after I had married, I dreamed that he drowned. There was an old cistern at our barn, which no one used anymore, and I dreamed that he drowned in that cistern. As we all looked into the cistern after he fell in, I noticed that bubbles kept coming up so that we could not find him. Over and over again this effervescence came up, hiding the whereabouts of David.

When I awoke from the dream, I had a sad feeling, but I knew it was only a dream. The next time I saw David, I told him about the dream, and we laughed. I also told my wife but no one else.

Disaster

Time went on for about a month; and, to make a long story short, my wife and I discovered that the boy had drowned in a creek below my mother's house. This was so sad for me and my wife. Those searching for David's body did not find it for 28 days, and I went to the coroner's office to identify David, because the family did not want to see him like that.

Delight

The funeral director could not open the casket; it was closed at the funeral. I preached the funeral. This was one of the hardest funerals I have ever had to officiate. But, during the message of the gospel at that funeral, a young girl was saved by God's grace. That was a great delight.

When my second son was born, I gave him the middle name of David, after this boy. Fortunately, I took a very good picture of David before his death, and I still have an 8x10 of him. Every time I go to the cemetery where this boy is buried, I have to go to his grave and honor the memory that God gave me of this young man. He was eleven years old.

P. S. After this affair, I spoke to my mother about our dreams and made a covenant with her that we would ask God to take away these dreams, and the Lord did just that. God is SO good!