With the sale of my parent's home only days away, my mind has been flooded with many memories. I've realized again the great heritage that I have and how the Lord directed my parents and my family through many difficult times. This weekend we visited New Cumberland where I lived twice when my father (PICTURE - my dad (coat) teaching trig at New Cumberland - our first house is in the background.)
taught math and coached basketball and football there. We drove past the house where we lived the first time there, when I was probably two or three. It was right across from what was then New Cumberland High School (now a middle school). I remember things about that time from pictures, stories that I heard, and actually some experiences that I do remember. For example, I do remember visiting the high school and actually attending some basketball games there. I remember how the neighborhood looked, with the alley next to our house - and it hasn't changed. We moved back there again after the war was over and my dad returned to teaching math and coaching. This time I had a brother and we have many pictures of us taken together at our home on Eutaw Ave. This house and neighborhood also hasn't changed in over 60 years - the lot next door where we used to play is still empty. I remember so much more about this time in New Cumberland. I remember walking several blocks to see my dad coach football - the field was crowded this weekend with midget football games. I remember walking downtown to take the bus to Harrisburg to shop, to go to church, and even to see my dad work at nights at the railroad depot there. I remember special visits from my aunt and uncle. I remember our neighbors who were our landlords. Years later I came to realize that my parents couldn't afford a car in those days so dad walked to school and even took the bus to shop for our groceries. I didn't realize until years later how poor we really were in those days. Recently dad told me how he'd take the bus and even the train to scout football games. I started first grade there. That building is no longer standing. We had a garden in another part of town and had to walk there to take care of it. The head football coach had a large field behind his house and every year he planted and harvested tomatoes in that field. I remember visiting there and watching my dad ride on a rig to help plant the tomatoes and later to pick them. As a first grader such things left lasting memories. Those were different times, tough times. So driving around New Cumberland brought back many of these special memories. But then as I left town it dawned on me that those family members who shared those memories are no longer here - my mother, my dad, my brother. Oh how I wish that I could ask them more questions about those days. Oh how I wish that I could take Terry back and show him those places where he was a toddler. Then it really dawned on me that none of my family remains who shared our experiences in Sunbury, Selinsgrove, Wilmington, New Cumberland, Elizabethtown, or Lancaster. Reality is setting in. Maybe I really am an orphan. Kendy and I, and our spouses, share the memories of Lititz, but come Friday all we will have left are the memories. And the memories are special and can't be taken away. God has been so good to us and as my parents set the example of trusting God and giving all to Him, even when they really had nothing in worldly possessions, God honored them. They never complained, they kept working very hard, and they trusted God fully. And so, when the house they dedicated to the Lord changes hands on Friday, we will still have the memories of the lives of faithfulness to the Lord that they modeled for us. And that is worth everything.
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