Long before we had a generation with their heads buried in their i-pods or
elsewhere, we had to pay attention. While considering the ad to join my high
school alumni association and pay their userous fee to join, I considered the
following things from growing up. Illusions if you will, or how the mind of a
kid worked at the time.
I never understood how a man named Ford on my paper route drove a Chevy. I
remember the Heidi game, and as a Jets fan felt robbed. Miss Bevelheimer once
gave me a C, because I did B work when I could’ve done A. Figure that one out.
How I grew up on a street once named Trenton Avenue, it was interrupted by a
school, renamed Mohawk Drive but found out their was another street by that name
in our zip code, and finally agreed on Algonquin Drive. Could you spell that
please? Being kept after school and then being threatened with suspension
because I wore my baseball uniform to detention. Getting my first paycheck and
having taxes taken out, what’s this all about? Never understanding why my Dad
drove Ramblers. Breaking up with my girlfriend in eighth grade and then going
with her best friend, and both ending up hating me. Only having six channels on
TV, and something was always on. And having to walk across the room to change
the channel. Going to the library to pick up girls. 77 WABC, and Cousin
Brucie, then WNEW-FM, the first station without a format. Seeing The National
Lampoon Radio Dinner, just before it became Saturday Night Live. Gas going from
23.9 to 35.9 and how was I going to afford it on my $2.55/hour job at Sears.
Cleaning out the floor of my Mom’s Rambler Classic with a whisk broom. Using
Brillo pads on the whitewalls. Spending hours on the phone with girls, under
the guide of studying.....being too cool to ride the bus any longer. MAD
magazine, what, me worry?
My friend Abner putting an old Civil War bayonet in the ceiling with joy
when the Mets won the World Series. Studying rock poetry in 10th grade, really
just listening to albums, was Suite Judy Blue Eyes really a poem? Was Paul
Simon a poet? Somehow no one failed to get an A. Being home sick and suddenly
being well when school let out. The cafeteria only serving fish on Fridays.
The big kids, almost teenagers, telling us all about sex, WOW. The first time I
heard Sgt. Pepper. Batman on Thursday nights, same Bat time, same Bat channel.
Walter Cronkite being the most trusted man in America. Turning 17 and finally
getting my driving permit. My first ticket for not staying to the right on a
four lane highway. You know that didn’t happen in California. Names from the
past in the news, Adam Clayton Powell, John Lindsay, Governor Hughes, Flo Dwyer,
and the day JFK was shot, I was in 4th grade in Mrs. Vanderbilt’s class. Having
a friend’s older sister dating Larry Burright from the 1962 Mets, right next
door, and sneaking a chance to visit. Double headers at Shea Stadium. Steve
Hamilton’s folly floater on the Yankees. My first Schwinn, and then my first
Sting Ray! Adding a tiger striped velour seat which was cool until it got wet.
All summer at the park playing. Then rushing out after dinner to play more.
Kickball in the streets, and being picked first. The first time I heard Surf
City, and wondering what a woodie was. Having my skate board confiscated, after
working on it for days, when I cut in front of a cop and he hit me. And getting
it after Sunday School along with a lesson from the sergeant when I picked it
up. Frank is bald! Best friends until junior high, and then again in high
school, when your social stats changed. Riding to Crestwood Cupboard for nickel
candy bars. Sleeping out with friends in Joey’s tent in the summer....Chiller
Theater, Famous Monsters of Filmland, and the list goes on.
So many memories of growing up, and looking back fondly at the good and the
bad times. How many of us share our testimonies about Jesus the same way? Is
or was he a defining moment in your life? I can remember being told about Jesus
and threatening to put the guy who shared with me in the hospital, he knew I was
serious. But a seed was planted,and the holy spirit did the rest. My first
Christmas as a real Christian, better than all I learned in Sunday School. And
finally putting the Santa ruse to rest. Same with Easter and the bunny. Going
back to Jersey and my druggie friends not trusting me now because I was a
Christian, boy did they get it all backwards. Leading Richard to the Lord in
his car in front of my parent’s house. Church on Christmas Eve, and the
Catholic priest saying “Happy Birthday Jesus, isn’t this a wonderful day!”
Reading my Bible no matter how partied out I was, wore most of Genesis off
turning the pages. Being told I could pray for my needs, and when I did God
magically answering them. Better than I could ask for. Growing in grace and
being given a spirit of discernment, and knocking Brother Ivie on on his butt,
he pushed me wanting to give me the holy spirit, I pushed back. I was already
touched by Jesus. Larry Peoples, hit man, killing 28 for profit and 8 for
revenge coming into my life to mentor. What the heck was a mentor? Seeing his
life changed, and God growing in him. Real spiritual warfare, not just getting
my own way, another thing best left up to God. Pastor Hyde and his daughters,
who trusted me with them despite my past. Being a youth leader while still a
youth myself! Playing in a church softball league, the toughest competitors I
ever faced. And learning to lose graciously, just not from them.
And finally here writing devotion number 1989, not the year, the number.
Being wonderfully married for 41 years, having a ministry and pastoring those
living on the edge, and in prison. Looking forward to heaven and Jesus, but for
now making more testimonies, for I don’t have to wait for heaven for him to be
in my life. His spirit dwells with in. And wondering if my grandson will have
the same great memories I have. Jesus Christ has made the difference in my
life, if he has in yours show it by loving someone who is unlovable. Pray for
your enemies. Forgive and forget, but always trust the spirit of the Lord. And
if you see Miss Bevelheimer, tell her how Jesus changed the life of a guy who
was doing A work, and only got a C for doing B work. I passed, I made it to
heaven. Now if you could only spell Algonquin without asking....I think I just
might go for a ride in the back of my truck and live dangerously to
celebrate!
Tune in tomorrow, same Bat time, same Bat channel...
love with compassion,
Mike
matthew25biker.blogspot.com
