Archives for 2015

Below is something I wrote two years ago– New Year’s Eve. This one hits pretty close to home. Go listen to Sonny Till and the Orioles……
 
Happy New Year 
 
I hope you might remember some of your New Years Eves from the past.

Just some thoughts:

                                                 WHAT ARE YOU DOING NEW YEAR’S EVE?

 
There are many songs that reference Christmas, but not many that reference New Year’s Eve.
 
I remember the first time I heard the song. I was riding in the back seat of my good friend’s (Mike), 1956 Chevy convertible on New Years Eve of 1958. It was nearing midnight, and the DJ on the radio introduced a song by saying, “Here is Sonny Till and the Orioles asking you a question: What are you doing New Year’s Eve? This song is for all you guys and gals out there tonight.” It was like a Wolfman Jack thing. There was no satellite radio, only AM radio but it was great.
 
“What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve?”
 
When the bells are ringing and the horns all blow
And the couples we know are fondly kissing
Will I be with you or will I be among the missing?
 
Maybe it’s much too early in the game
Ooh, but I thought I’d ask you just the same
What are you doing New Year’s?
New Year’s Eve
 
Wonder whose arms will hold you good and tight
When it’s exactly twelve o’clock that night
Welcoming in the New Year
New Year’s Eve
 
Maybe I’m crazy to suppose
I’d ever be the one you chose
Out of the thousands invitations you receive
Ooh, but in case I stand one little chance
Here comes the jackpot question in advance
What are you doing New Year’s Eve?
New Year’s Eve
 
Some of the best times I ever had came on New Year’s Eve. In some ways it does not seem like that long ago, Cohort and I, along with our dates, and it was New Year’s Eve. I never celebrate a New Year’s Eve that I don’t think of those times.

I hope you are not among the missing.
================================================================================================December 31, 2013
Keep on,
Larry Adamson 

Just some thoughts:

These many years later, I’m ashamed to say about all I knew about him was he sold pencils, had no legs and his name was Jimmy. Jimmy was probably what today would be identified as street people.
 
For the four years (1960-1964) I was in college I would pass him most everyday. I would pass him as I was going from my classes to work at the Terre Haute First National Bank. A place where I had started working when I was a sophomore in high school in 1957 and continued until I graduated college in 1964. Rain, sleet, snow, or sunshine made little difference he would either be on the corner of 7th & Wabash or sitting in front of the bank in mid block.
 
                                                Pretty Paper
 
Pretty paper, pretty ribbons of blue, wrap your presents to you darling from you
 Pretty pencils to write I love you/  Pretty paper, pretty ribbons of blue,

Crowded streets, busy feet hustle by him downtown shoppers
Christmas is neigh; there he sits all alone on the sidewalk
Hoping you won’t pass him by, should you stop, better not
Much too busy, you’re in a hurry, my how time does fly,
In the distance the ringing of laughter and in the mist of the
Laughter he cries, pretty paper, pretty ribbons of blue
Wrap your presents to your darling from you, pretty pencils
To write I love you, pretty paper, pretty ribbons of blue…       

​When you are young sadly you don’t pay attention to a lot of things as you should. Yes, a lot of things.  
 
Over the years ever time I hear this song I think of Jimmy. The song was written in the early 1960s’, 63 I think. It was written by Willie Nelson and the first big hit and still to this day my favorite version, was done by the man from Wink, Texas, Roy Orbison. Nelson once when ask about the origin of the song told the story that the was such a man who sat out front of Leonard’s department store in a town in Texas.  
 
There are a lot of “Jimmy’s” around in most  all of our towns, still today. The question comes back to us as it does in the lyrics of the song:

 “Should you stop, better not, much too busy”

​And sadly, “In the mist of the laughter he cries.”
​=======================================================================================

Just some thoughts:

These many years later, I’m ashamed to say about all I knew about him was he sold pencils, had no legs and his name was Jimmy. Jimmy was probably what today would be identified as street people.
 
For the four years (1960-1964) I was in college I would pass him most everyday. I would pass him as I was going from my classes to work at the Terre Haute First National Bank. A place where I had started working when I was a sophomore in high school in 1957 and continued until I graduated college in 1964. Rain, sleet, snow, or sunshine made little difference he would either be on the corner of 7th & Wabash or sitting in front of the bank in mid block.
 
                                                Pretty Paper
 
Pretty paper, pretty ribbons of blue, wrap your presents to you darling from you
 Pretty pencils to write I love you/  Pretty paper, pretty ribbons of blue,

Crowded streets, busy feet hustle by him downtown shoppers
Christmas is neigh; there he sits all alone on the sidewalk
Hoping you won’t pass him by, should you stop, better not
Much too busy, you’re in a hurry, my how time does fly,
In the distance the ringing of laughter and in the mist of the
Laughter he cries, pretty paper, pretty ribbons of blue
Wrap your presents to your darling from you, pretty pencils
To write I love you, pretty paper, pretty ribbons of blue…       

​When you are young sadly you don’t pay attention to a lot of things as you should. Yes, a lot of things.  
 
Over the years ever time I hear this song I think of Jimmy. The song was written in the early 1960s’, 63 I think. It was written by Willie Nelson and the first big hit and still to this day my favorite version, was done by the man from Wink, Texas, Roy Orbison. Nelson once when ask about the origin of the song told the story that the was such a man who sat out front of Leonard’s department store in a town in Texas.  
 
There are a lot of “Jimmy’s” around in most  all of our towns, still today. The question comes back to us as it does in the lyrics of the song:

 “Should you stop, better not, much too busy”

​And sadly, “In the mist of the laughter he cries.”
​=======================================================================================

Not every Christmas wish/prayer will always be received as hoped….below is something I wrote December 21, 2011.–four years ago.  Often I still think of that time and our wanting just five more days. There is an old hymn that they used to sing at my grandmother McCammon’s country church in Paxton, Indiana…. “Farther Along.” Farther along we’ll understand why, I still wonder.
​

Just some thoughts

Many have heard the song “Just One More Day;” a song made popular by the group Diamond Rio. I have spoken with Marty Roe of the group regarding that song, as he and his family attended church where my wife and I do.
 
Everytime I hear that song I am made to think of a happening that occurred many years ago in my family. In the late 1960s’ my older brother, his wife and three young children were all living in southern California when my brother was stricken with terminal cancer.
 
My parents and my family were all living in Indiana at the time. It was December and my parents had planned we would all fly to California the week of Christmas to be with my brother and his family. While not spoken, the thought for all of us was “one last time.” On a Sunday afternoon five days before we all were to fly to California, I was at my parent’s house and I took the call from a close friend of my brother’s family. “Larry, it’s not good; he has started hemorrhaging, and we have called to tell you there is not much time left.” I replied. “We will be on the first plane in the morning. We will be there.” “You don’t understand. It’s just a matter of a few hours.” About four hours later, the dreaded call came.
 
I was twenty-five years old at the time, and these forty-five years later I still have this thought: “Lord, it was almost Christmas, and all we were asking for was five more days.”  

 “To Say Goodbye”
 
He said, I’ll call you hon when I get there, ten minutes later he was in the air,
She dropped the kids at school and headed home, walked in and turned the TV on.
She could tell that there was something wrong, every channel had the same thing on.
         
She wants to put her arms around his neck, and look in his eyes so blue,
And say, honey, I don’t regret a single day I spent with you.
She wants to tell him that she loves him so, and will until the day she dies.
It’s not that she can’t let him go; she just wants to say good-bye 
          
He sits beside her in the nursing home; through her silver hair he runs a comb,
He hangs their wedding picture on the wall, she don’t remember who he is at all.
He tells her stories about the life they’ve lived, from their first kiss to their last grandkids.
For seven months now she just sits and stares, but if she wakes up he’s gonna be right there.
 
 No, it ain’t that we can’t let them go, we just want to say goodbye. 
​

​I dare say, in the lives of all of us there have been times when “we just wanted to say good-bye.” 
You?

================================================================================================December 21, 2011
Keep on,
​Larry Adamson

Just some thoughts:

Durring my nearly twenty-five years on staff at the United States Golf Association I had many, many good fortunes. So many that I would often crawl back into my mind and ask myself, “How did I get here.?”
 
One such “How did I get here” moment was when I would go into New York City and to the offices of the United States Tennis Association. There I would meet with what would be their counter part to my job responsibilities at the United States Golf Association. During those times I met and he would often sit in on our meetings, the tennis great Arthur Ashe. Sitting with him in this small setting, listening to him talk was something very special. Ashe was the only black to win Wimbledon and the United States and Australian Opens. He was a great tennis player. But in my opinion he was a great human.  
 
There are many things I think I will always remember about Ashe but two in particular are, one, I believe it was the New York Times description of him.

         “Militant in his convictions but mild in his manner, this
          slim bookish and bespectacled athlete never thought
       of himself as a rebel and preferred information to insurrection.”

​Boy would I like to see some of that today…”Talk, information over insurrections.”
 
Secondly in his book…..Ashe describes what Christmas meant to him and what he was taught from his father about Christmas.

         “When I was a boy, on Christmas my father always took
          me late in the day to visit families who were less fortunate than
          we were. We brought food and toys—and Daddy always  
          insisted that we give away not simply old toys but one or
          two of the… new toys we had just received.”

His father taught him to give away not just something old that he no longer wanted…”But one or two of the new toys we had just received.”He was taught to share, “The first fruits he had received… not the hand-me-downs.”
 
Sadly Ashe died much too young. He died February 6th, 1993 at the age of forty-nine.
 
On occasion I still think of the few times I met and was in his company. It is a rare person that will give away what has just been given to them. What a great attitude, not just at Christmas, but at all times.

=====================================================================================
December 23, 2015
Keep on,
​Larry Adamson

Below is something I wrote two years ago.
​======================================================================================

​Just some thoughts:

Silly question most might say. Christmas day is for family and special friends, to be at home with kids, relatives, etc., right?
 
For the past twenty-four years that has not been the case for Brad Gaines. Gaines has spent the past twenty-four years at a cemetery. Yes, a cemetery. For the past twenty-four years he has never spent Christmas at home. He has been making the three hour drive from his home in Nashville, Tennessee to spend it at the Luketown Cemetery in Russellville, Alabama.
 
In 1989 Gaines was a member of the Vanderbilt University football team. In a game played at Ole Miss, Gaines was a running back and he was tackled by a defensive tackle, Chucky Mullins. The hit left Mullins paralyzed. He would die less than two years later from a pulmonary embolism. In the next nineteen months that Mullins lived, he and Gaines developed a special relationship. Gaines also makes the three hour drive to the grave site on Mullin’s birthday each year, October twenty eighth.
 
Just a few days ago I made one of my basketball junkets back to Indiana, something I have been doing for more years than I remember. As I got about twenty miles from my destination, I realized I was just a few miles from the area where my parents are buried. My subconscious set in and a voice asked, “Are you going to stop at their grave?” I thought a moment. “Man, it’s just about dark, it’s cold and I’m feeling that wind against the car; this is Indiana and it’s winter, you know.” Hum… twenty four years, every Christmas day and birthday.
 
You and I would be fortunate to have a friend who remembers us every year on our birthday and Christmas, he remembers us by coming to our grave, cleaning our headstone and spending some time with us.
 
Yes, on that day I did stop at Center Ridge Cemetery, Sullivan, Indiana, where my folks are buried.

 “When somebody dies, we tell their story and try to define what was special about them… what it was they brought to the party and how they enhanced our lives just by showing up. In this way we educate ourselves about what really matters; or often, re-educate ourselves, for man needs more to be reminded than instructed.”
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December 29, 2013
Keep on,
​Larry Adamson

​Just some thoughts:

 I shared the following with my kids, well more than likely, my grand kids.
 
Musical tastes certainly change over generations; and if one does not get some good “steering” on certain matters he or she will miss a lot. So I feel the need to share some Christmas music with you that you need to acquaint yourself with, and see that it is played in your presence every Christmas season. You know, we won’t always be there to point them down the straight and narrow, so there is a need for these instructions. All said with “tongue in cheek.”
 
First and foremost, on your list has to be Elvis singing “Blue Christmas.” In fact that song is so good you can play it year round: the 4th of July, Thanksgiving, any and all days. A close second to that song is Nat King Cole doing “The Christmas Song.” By the way, the writer of that song is Mel Torme, and his version is also acceptable. Very acceptable.
 
Don’t let the season go by without Bobby Helms singing “Jingle Bell Rock.” It’s also okay if you listen to Brenda Lee’s version of the same song or “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree.”. No Christmas is Christmas without Bing Crosby and “White Christmas.” You ask, “Who is Bing Crosby?” You also probably never heard of Dinah Washington or Jerry Butler, but listen to either of them do “Silent Night.” Also Gene Autry singing “Here Comes Santa Claus” should be on this list. A must is another Elvis song, “I’ll Be Home on Christmas Day.”
 
Shortly after Christmas day make it a must to listen to anyone that does “What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve?” I recommend Sonny Till and the Orioles version before hearing any others. But Joe Williams, Barry Manilow or Norah Jones do very creditable renditions of the song also.
I must throw in something a bit more current, like in the past twenty-five years, and that is Dan Fogelberg singing “Same Old Lang Syne.” The song doesn’t really have much to do with the holiday season, but it does have some great thoughts and has killer lyrics. Year endings are a great time to have some great songs and thoughts from years past. Last but not least, listen to Guy Lombardo and his Royal Canadians close out the old year with “Old Lang Syne.”
 
If you can put these on your listening calendar, well, maybe there is still some hope. Your  grandfather will be some place smiling and thinking, “What good musical tastes those kids have. I guess someone must have helped them in their selection.”
 
Generally we all regardless of age can use some help when it comes to the matter of “choices and selections.”

============================================================================================
December 5, 2013
Keep on,
​Larry Adamson

Just some thoughts: 

​It has been said he was the first African-American that was welcomed into the homes of so many whites. The year was 1956, and he was the first black man to have a television show and the first to be a headliner in Las Vegas. He sold millions of records, and his family still receives royalties from his recordings even though he has been dead forty-eight years. Most young people would not know about him; a few might recognize the name of his daughter, Natalie.
 
Sadly he died in February of 1965 at the age of forty-five.  I have always been a great fan of him and his work. He died of lung cancer at the very same time I was having my lung surgery in 1970. I found myself even more attracted to him and his career. About that time in the late 60s’, his wife, Maria, wrote a book on his life. Immediately I got the book and was moved by her writings and the story of his life.
 
Over the years I have collected a large body of his works, but there was one particular album he had done that I could not find. I searched everywhere and made every contact I could think of with no success. For some unexplainable reason one night I sat down and wrote Maria Cole, Mrs. Nat King Cole, a letter. I told her how much I enjoyed her book and her husband’s work. In the last paragraph of my letter, I mentioned there was an album I was trying to find, but had failed at every search. I told her how much I would love to find a source to purchase the album.
 
I sent the letter to an address that I found in an encyclopedia from my local library, thinking “She will never get this. This address cannot be right.” Time passed, and I had forgotten that I had even sent the letter. At that time I was teaching and coaching in Frankfort, Indiana, and one day as I went to check my mailbox in the teacher’s lounge, low and behold, there was an envelope, stationary style. My first thought was here is a letter from an” unhappy parent.” To my great surprise it was a letter from Mrs. Nat King Cole. She thanked me for my letter and at the end of her letter she wrote, “I’m sorry, right now I am not at our home in California where I would have access to that album you asked about.” She gave me an address and contact person in California. “You tell them I told you to contact them, they should be able to help you get a copy of the album,” were her words.
 
Today just off to my left is the album. It, along with her letter and the album cover, is framed.
 
Not all celebrities are cold, callous and indifferent to their fans. Some do read and respond to their fan mail.
 
If you are not familiar with Nat King Cole, just pick up a cd of his sometime. Never, never let a Christmas season pass without listening to him do the “Christmas Song.” 

  “Chestnuts roasting on an open fire/ Jack Frost nipping at your nose,
    yule tide carols being sung by a choir/ and folks dressed up like Eskimos.”
==============================================================================
December 15, 2009
Keep on,
​Larry Adamson

Just some thoughts: 

“A Hundred Pounds of Clay”

He took a hundred pounds of clay/ And He said, “Hey Listen”
                                        
“I’m gonna fix this-a-world today/Because I know what’s missin’ ”
                                   
Then he rolled his big sleeves up/ And a brand-new world began
                                 
He created a woman and-a-lots of lovin’ for a man/ Whoa-oh-oh-yes he did
                              
With just a hundred pounds of clay/ He made my life worth livin’
                                         
And I will thank Him every day/ For every kiss you’re given’
                                    
And I’ll thank Him every night/ For the arms that are holdin’ me tight
                           
And He did it all with just a hundred pounds of clay/ Yes he did whoa-oh, yes He did
                     
Now can’tcha just see Him a-walkin’ round and round/ Pickin’the clay uppa off the ground
                    
 Doin’ just what He should do/ To make a livin’ dream like you

​Happy Birthday===Barbara.
=====================================================================================
December 18, 2015
Keep on,
​Larry Adamson

December 15, 2015–Early this morning 6 A.M. I dove a van with twelve men–homeless men–from the church where my wife and I attend back to the street mission (Room at the Inn) for them to began their day.Below is something I wrote four days before Christmas two years ago.  When I wonder about “my day” I often think of these twelve men and theirs.
====================================================================================

SILENT NIGHT

What is your favorite Christmas carol and when was the last time you sang it?
 
One night this past week I sang in a chorus. It had been a long time since I had sung in a chorus. It was good that talent was not needed for participation in this chorus because I have little musical talent. Correction, not little, none. Yet they let me sing and be a part, and even seemed to appreciate my participation. Our performance was here in Nashville, Music City. I doubt if there were any big producers or record big wigs in this audience looking for hidden talent. They don’t look for such at this location. But we sang and it was good, more than good, it was special.
 
Let’s see, I sang with David, Howard, Mark, Ed., Bob, Earl, John, and about sixty others. Yes, there were also a few ladies sprinkled among this chorus.
 
You see, we sang with a group of homeless folks. You wanna be moved emotionally, especially just a few days before Christmas, then go to a homeless shelter and spend the evening sitting with them, eating and visiting. Then close the evening with an all sing; everyone in the room was singing Silent Night. I haven’t sung that song since I was a small child, and have it affect me as it did that night. I can’t speak for the house, but for me, “there was not a dry eye in the (my) house.”
 
The church where my wife and I attend supports a program called Room in the Inn. In the winter months the homeless and street people are brought to our church building one night a week for food and housing for the night; my wife and I have assisted with this program at various times. On occasions I drive the morning van taking them back to that shelter. Tonight, along with a small group from our church, we went to their main shelter in downtown Nashville and provided some food and musical entertainment by a trio from our congregation.
 
Have you ever thought what has kept you from some of the same misfortunes that some of these folks are experiencing? Yes, true some of their misfortunes are of their less than good choices. But not in all or every case. Sitting with these folks and singing Silent Night can make one think and be thankful.
 
I once heard it said:

“Everyone is just a couple of bad happenings away from finding themselves in a position… a position which they could never have imagined.”
​====================================================================================  

December 21, 2013
Keep on,
Larry Adamson