Pastor Rob Patterson    653 A Street    Galt, California   209-745-4665
return to: pastorob at  www.pastorob.com/rob’sblog.htm
listen to: pastorob's music at  www.pastorob.com/audiodwnload.htm

I've told some of you that I've never thrown away anything that I thought was creative. Being a motherless child had certain peculiarities. No one ever required me to 'clean my room.' I would occasionally take the time necessary to organize my valued possessions. However, I've also had a life-long struggle with that process. It takes a long, long time for me to look through and 'file' those items that I have treasured. It never fails...never.

I enjoy discovering those treasures that I chose to preserve so many weeks, months, years, and decades before. I have never hated to clean my working or living space. It just is never going to be finished. I enjoy the experience more than the final result. Most books on organization and time-management seem to advocate 'pitching' stuff. Well, the losses I endured early in life apparently accounts for my strong sense of historical preservation. During this mid-life Sabbatical I am, once again, organizing my toys, and collections. It seems to me to be the appropriate time--and I did 'nothing' toward completion of my prospectus today (sd26).

The last year that we lived at the Brown House Dad had married for the second time. During that short period of time, we gained a little brother and sister (Gary and Angelia). Their mother, Jan Patterson now was 'Mom' to all seven children during the time she was with us. I liked having the three of them join our family. That sentiment wasn't shared by others in my our extended family.


Sometimes Grandma Patterson would come from Jonesville to visit with us for a few days. She liked to recount for me the story of when I came to her with my complaint.  "Grandma, I cleaned my room and those kids messed it all up. So, for that very reason, Grandma gave me a gift for my birthday: a fishing tackle box. She told me that it would be useful for organizing my various collections--so that 'those darned kids wouldn't mess up my things.' (Grandma's voice resounds in my mind's ear).

 
EDUCATIONAL TOYS 
          by Frieda Marie Patterson
               January 15, 1958

A child's world is full of things,
that racket, rattle, rocks, or rings.
Things with which he builds and plays,
and fights and bargains for thru the days.

Let's help him keep them in their place,
They may help him save his race,
Wonders await his unfolding years,
if honest and courageous,
he'll cause no fears.

(Mother had already given birth to four of her five children when
she wrote these poems. I had turned six months old the day before.)

  GOLDEN RULE 
                      by Frieda Marie Patterson   January 15, 1958

Deal with another as you'd have
       another deal with you.
What you're not willing to receive
      Be sure you never do.
Let us love with all our hearst,
      With all our souls and mind,
and love our neighbors as our self
      Be faithful, just, and kind.
 

        Robbie
         by Frieda Marie Patterson
               February 21, 1958

Come, Robbie, my love,
           My sweet little dove,
                 You’re so tender, trustful and sweet.

You honor my arms
           with your sweet baby charms,
                 And I am your captive complete.

  Now and Today
     by Frieda Marie Patterson  (undated)

These two words, are all that living needs,
         A dream of the past,
                or a plan for future deeds.

Life has five letters, and write it as you may,
        Life is one word
                      and it is T O D A Y.

    Love is the present, the shining hour.
                              No past can dim it,
                              It has future power.

    Love has three letters, and speak it anyhow,
                                           Love is one word
                                                   This one word is N O W.

       "Live for today, there may not be a tomorrow."

Good and Evil
                  January 31, 1958
         by Frieda Marie Patterson

          The heart is a garden,
                 and the days are life's sunny morn.
          This is a season for planting,
                 the rose and the thorn.

          The rose and thorn grow together,
                Then we should all beware,
          That none but the bright and finest
                of roses linger there.

return to: pastorob at  www.pastorob.com/rob’sblog.htm
listen to: pastorob's music at  www.pastorob.com/audiodwnload.htm
                                                                   Pastor Rob Patterson    653 A Street    Galt, California   209-745-4665