When I was 14 my dad (and all of us) built a new house on Stanton close to dad's sister, Thelma. I liked to spend a lot of time with Aunt T, who lived two doors down the oiled dirt road. I really didn’t like to stay past dark, but did it once in a while. On this particular evening, I was hurrying home, singing aloud to keep myself from getting scared. I was feeling great relief when I was within 5 or so steps of our driveway, when suddenly Bud jumped up from lying in the ditch, yelling as only he can do. I yelled back and nearly passed out. He gave me his usual big horselaugh as he ran back into the house.
******
When Bud was *Christ Ambassador’s “president” at Central A/G, I was impressed that my big brother had a “favorite” chorus. As he was leading us in P&W one Sunday evening he asked us to sing “Got Any Rivers” stating that it was his favorite.
Got any rivers you think are uncrossable
Got any mountains you can’t tunnel through
God specializes in things thought impossible
And he will do what no other power can do
(*C.A.'s was the youth group name used by all Assemblies of God churches. Do any of my readers remember the words to the C.A. theme song?)
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Trumpets and White Bucks
Bud and Steve took music lessons (trumpet) from Lottie Anthony for a while. She’d come to the house and set up class in the livingroom. To this day a trumpet is my favorite brass instrument. We had our own family “orchestra” of sorts: Dad on the sax, Mom on the guitar, the boys on their trumpets and me on the marimba. We had a lot of fun playing together at home and at church.
The family theme song became "Mansion Over the Hilltop." But Bud and I had a duet we did together once: “He Bought My Soul.”
We all sang together too. Solos, duets, trios. Music was like breathing. When baby brother Tom came along, he played a little plastic toy trumpet until he was old enough to learn to play like the big brothers. Then they played trios. Or a quartet with the three trumpets and Dad on the saxophone.
Wish I had a recording of these musical ministries...
*******
My big brother attended and graduated from North High, Des Moines, where he played his trumpet in the marching band.
White bucks (white suede shoes for those who don’t know) were "in" back in the mid '50's. He begged and pleaded and finally Mom took him to the store and bought him a pair. He proudly wore them to school the next day. And was really upset when someone "initiated" his clean white bucks by spitting on them then stepping in the spit and rubbing it in with his own dirty shoe. Awwww.
You can imagine how surprised I was when he used food coloring mixed with the white shoe polish to dye his white bucks pink and green to march in the band for the next football game. (North colors used to be pink and green for the northern lights colors). Anything for the school spirit.
I always thought he looked so cool in his band uniform!
The family theme song became "Mansion Over the Hilltop." But Bud and I had a duet we did together once: “He Bought My Soul.”
We all sang together too. Solos, duets, trios. Music was like breathing. When baby brother Tom came along, he played a little plastic toy trumpet until he was old enough to learn to play like the big brothers. Then they played trios. Or a quartet with the three trumpets and Dad on the saxophone.
Wish I had a recording of these musical ministries...
*******
My big brother attended and graduated from North High, Des Moines, where he played his trumpet in the marching band.
White bucks (white suede shoes for those who don’t know) were "in" back in the mid '50's. He begged and pleaded and finally Mom took him to the store and bought him a pair. He proudly wore them to school the next day. And was really upset when someone "initiated" his clean white bucks by spitting on them then stepping in the spit and rubbing it in with his own dirty shoe. Awwww.
You can imagine how surprised I was when he used food coloring mixed with the white shoe polish to dye his white bucks pink and green to march in the band for the next football game. (North colors used to be pink and green for the northern lights colors). Anything for the school spirit.
I always thought he looked so cool in his band uniform!
Gooseberries
More about my big brother
Aunt T had a huge vegetable garden and even a vineyard. She always shared the crops with mom—“The green beans (or whatever) are ready to pick. Come and get all you want.” Mom would pack up us kids in the car and we’d go spend the day picking whatever was ripe.
It didn’t end there. We’d get the stuff home and have to “nub” the dumb things. She’d set us up on the screened-in back porch with baskets and pans and all the stuff needed to do the job of picking off the ends of beans or shelling peas.
One job in particular has forever-memories: The gooseberry. We were nubbing gooseberries on the back porch. Sticky. Nasty tasting (there was very little I didn’t like to eat, but gooseberries were near the top of my very short list of dislikes). I had taken a bathroom break (always a good diversion) and when I came back through the dining room Bud hollered, “Open your mouth!” as he prepared to throw a gooseberry at me. Between the back porch and the dining room was the kitchen. So I knew this was a nearly impossible feat because I was standing in the far end of the dining room.
So I opened my mouth and suddenly I heard a plop sound and felt my throat clogged with something. He had hit the target. I gagged and coughed and spit it out and tore into him with a vengeance. He turned on his big old horselaugh which made all of us laugh.
It turned into a bragging point for years.
Aunt T had a huge vegetable garden and even a vineyard. She always shared the crops with mom—“The green beans (or whatever) are ready to pick. Come and get all you want.” Mom would pack up us kids in the car and we’d go spend the day picking whatever was ripe.
It didn’t end there. We’d get the stuff home and have to “nub” the dumb things. She’d set us up on the screened-in back porch with baskets and pans and all the stuff needed to do the job of picking off the ends of beans or shelling peas.
One job in particular has forever-memories: The gooseberry. We were nubbing gooseberries on the back porch. Sticky. Nasty tasting (there was very little I didn’t like to eat, but gooseberries were near the top of my very short list of dislikes). I had taken a bathroom break (always a good diversion) and when I came back through the dining room Bud hollered, “Open your mouth!” as he prepared to throw a gooseberry at me. Between the back porch and the dining room was the kitchen. So I knew this was a nearly impossible feat because I was standing in the far end of the dining room.
So I opened my mouth and suddenly I heard a plop sound and felt my throat clogged with something. He had hit the target. I gagged and coughed and spit it out and tore into him with a vengeance. He turned on his big old horselaugh which made all of us laugh.
It turned into a bragging point for years.
My Big Brother Bud
For the next few posts I will be reminiscing about my big brother. If you don't know the Bougher family, you have really missed out on part of life. We all live on sort of the edge of insanity--loving every minute of it, feeling sorry for those who don't understand. I didn't get to attend his funeral yesterday. But I got some reports about it. I feel sorry for the undertaker guy. But then that's a post for another day.
Here're the first of my first special memoirs:
When we lived on 5th Avenue in Des Moines, Iowa, I remember Bud reading the story of a dog named “Shep” to Steve and me. A chapter a night. It was such a sad, yet happy-ending story. I remember having great tears rolling down my face as he read it to us. A sweet memory.
Doing dishes. Yikes. This was not our favorite thing to do, yet we had no choice. It became the place of arguing or giggling. Either one in excess got Mom’s attention and brought trouble to our lives. One time we were doing this task and got into a goofy argument about something or other and I was so mad I grabbed the broom and held it bristle-side up, threatening to whap Bud on the head. Bud started to laugh (which really made me mad!) and of course he wasn’t going to stand there and take it…so he started to run through the house and out the front door, with me in hot pursuit, waving that broom. Down the front walk and down the street. He put his arms in the air and hollered like he was getting killed, with me trying to broom-bop him. Of course at this point he looked so silly that I had to laugh too. We went back into the house together, laughing. I still wonder what the neighbors thought.
I'm just glad Mom wasn't home.
Here're the first of my first special memoirs:
When we lived on 5th Avenue in Des Moines, Iowa, I remember Bud reading the story of a dog named “Shep” to Steve and me. A chapter a night. It was such a sad, yet happy-ending story. I remember having great tears rolling down my face as he read it to us. A sweet memory.
Doing dishes. Yikes. This was not our favorite thing to do, yet we had no choice. It became the place of arguing or giggling. Either one in excess got Mom’s attention and brought trouble to our lives. One time we were doing this task and got into a goofy argument about something or other and I was so mad I grabbed the broom and held it bristle-side up, threatening to whap Bud on the head. Bud started to laugh (which really made me mad!) and of course he wasn’t going to stand there and take it…so he started to run through the house and out the front door, with me in hot pursuit, waving that broom. Down the front walk and down the street. He put his arms in the air and hollered like he was getting killed, with me trying to broom-bop him. Of course at this point he looked so silly that I had to laugh too. We went back into the house together, laughing. I still wonder what the neighbors thought.
I'm just glad Mom wasn't home.
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Bud
My big brother, Bud, died Wednesday. Sudden heart attack brought on by medical treatment for a newly found cancer in his body. He knew of the risks.
So my big brother is in heaven.
Right now, as I sit in Mbabane, Swaziland and type these words, the funeral is taking place in Des Moines, Iowa. I didn't get to be there. It really makes me sad to miss it. It will be a great celebration.
I'll post more about him tomorrow. And the next day.
Just wanted to let the world know that my big brother is in heaven now.
I'm so happy for him. So sad for his wife and kids, grandkids, and for me.
I'm so glad he was ready to go.
Harry Kenneth Bougher Jr Oct 6, 1936--Nov 14, 2006
So my big brother is in heaven.
Right now, as I sit in Mbabane, Swaziland and type these words, the funeral is taking place in Des Moines, Iowa. I didn't get to be there. It really makes me sad to miss it. It will be a great celebration.
I'll post more about him tomorrow. And the next day.
Just wanted to let the world know that my big brother is in heaven now.
I'm so happy for him. So sad for his wife and kids, grandkids, and for me.
I'm so glad he was ready to go.
Harry Kenneth Bougher Jr Oct 6, 1936--Nov 14, 2006
Monday, November 13, 2006
Nhlangano
Among the things missionaries miss the most while living in a strange land has got to be shopping in (God Bless) America.
The Mall of Louisiana. Best Buy. Home Depot. Barnes & Noble. Bath and Body Works. Albertsons. Walmart. Target.
Target?
Sometimes God just shows us his great sense of humor.
While in a cool little town in the south of Swaziland, Nhlangano by name, we found the local version of a Target store.
(Bearing no resemblance of the store on Siegen Lane.)
The Mall of Louisiana. Best Buy. Home Depot. Barnes & Noble. Bath and Body Works. Albertsons. Walmart. Target.
Target?
Sometimes God just shows us his great sense of humor.
While in a cool little town in the south of Swaziland, Nhlangano by name, we found the local version of a Target store.
(Bearing no resemblance of the store on Siegen Lane.)
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