Wow! A pair of real celebrities who write and sing hymns?
Something told me, just now, to post this. When I was a little boy, Roy Rogers and Dale Evans were mega-stars: they made movies, had a TV show, and appeared on lunch boxes all over the country.
Dale Evans herself wrote The Bible Tells Me So. It’s message isn’t complicated. But it’s well worth hearing.
[Anybody out there remember the name of Dale’s horse, on the TV show?]
My wife said she didn’t want to step outside “because the morning sun–”
“Is shinin’ like a red rubber ball!” I finished for her; and we both laughed.
That allusion to a 1966-67 pop song suddenly raised up for me an almost inexpressibly sweet memory of five of us high school kids gathered in William A’s bedroom with pretzels and soda to brainstorm the next issue of our own science fiction magazine, The Diomegan. With Simon & Garfunkel singing this song somewhere in the background.
Oh, what a time that was! How gung-ho we were, to publish our magazine. And we did it, too, got it done–two issues.
I wonder how many of us remember that song? “Now I know you ain’t the only starfish in the sea…”
This memory came back to me today, with a certain poignancy.
I reached a point where I couldn’t feed live crickets to my turtle anymore (softy!)–so I kept them. Easy-maintenance pets: a couple of hiding places, a little water dish, some nice wheat germ for their food, and there you are.
I remember vividly one New Year’s morning, heavy snow falling, already pretty deep, cold as could be–and in my living room, a bunch of aging crickets merrily chirping away. Not a sound you often hear during a snowstorm.
I had to stop with the crickets, though, once they became too big a temptation to our cats.
When I was a boy, we lived next door to a widow woman, Mrs. Thomas, who was loved by all. We kids did errands for her, and our fathers trimmed her hedge and mowed her lawn. She had a big back yard which was always available to us as a play area.
And she had an old brown dog named Brownie. We lived on a dead-end street, with low traffic, and Brownie had the run of the neighborhood. He was everybody’s friend, and welcome everywhere.
If you were feeling blue, and sitting on the steps, moping, somehow Brownie always found you and would sit down beside you to keep you company–and before long, you felt… better! He had a gift for that.
Yeah, I know, it’s a bygone era, blah-blah. But you know something? All these years later, I still love Brownie. Remembering him always brings light to the darkness of an evil age.
Every neighborhood should have a dog like Brownie.