November 12, 2015
YOU HIT THE NAIL ON THE HEAD WITH YOUR NO. 27 POCKET JOURNALS.
My dad Edwin Allred grew up on the family farm near Bethel in southern Giles County, Tennessee. He was a combat veteran of WWII and was a very private man. He opened up about very little, and kept to himself most all the time. He passed away in 2008 at the age of 84.
He farmed and raised cattle all his life and always kept a small, spiral-topped notebook in his shirt pocket. In fact, sometimes some area businesses would give out very small pocket calendars that had room to keep notes under each day, so it really didn’t matter to him what he wrote on, as long as he had a tablet to do it. Either way …
HE WROTE IN THESE LITTLE NOTEBOOKS EVERY DAY.
I knew he kept up with fuel use, what he bought at the Co-Op, and how much he spent. We always figured he kept notes for his taxes. We knew he wrote phone numbers of people he met and notes to remember how much seed, or feed, or whatever he bought. Every day we saw him use these notepads all his life.
After he died, I was looking for something in a tool drawer in his shop and ran across dozens of these little notepads.
He would throw them in this drawer when they were full. I picked up one and began to look through it, thinking that I would see what he spent on feed January 6, 1969. I did see a lot of that, but I also found where he made notes about the day his first grandson was born and how happy he was about it. I found notes he made about buying Christmas presents for my mother, my brother, and myself . . . He made notes about the weather and how he felt that day.
There were too many memories to mention, but these little notepads are priceless to my family. I only wish he had had something like the No. 27 Pocket Journal to use.
I’VE STARTED USING ONE TO KEEP NOTES IN. I HOPE ONE DAY MY KIDS OR GRANDKIDS FIND THEM IN A DRAWER IN MY SHOP.
To find these notebooks of your dad’s is so neat.I have a recipe of my dad’s and I asked him to write it for me so that I would always have it in his handwriting. Those little things are treasures!
I write in a journal funny, emotional, and eye opening experiences from my life personally and professionally, as a nurse. Many of these entries are from times with veterans that touch my heart or patients nearing heaven. Also, one veteran, who was a retired minister, with PTSD and Alzheimer’s, who asked how I was doing one day when I arrived. I responded that I was well, but wished I had more patience sometimes. In this statement, I felt that I had been somewhat short with my mother who seemed too needy after my step-dad of 50 yrs had died. I was assisting her, as an only child, and also going through a cancer diagnosis, surgery and radiation with my husband of 25 yrs. All this happened within a 2 week time-frame a couple of years ago. At that time my patient asked if I minded if we held hands and prayed in his kitchen with his wife. I thanked him and said, “I would love that.” He began, “Lord, I don’t know why she wants more people to be sick, but she must feel that she has a talent to care for them.” At that point, his wife squeezed my hand and I opened my eyes to see her wink at me as we let him continue. At the conclusion, we all said “Amen.” I truly feel that he gave and still gives me that little uplift and bit of humor to bring a smile to my face each time I recall his gentle and caring nature despite his condition. These expereinces are treasures to me!
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