Published: May 14, 2008 02:50 pm            

Residents should add community name to insure delivery

The florist delivery truck slowly pulled into my driveway. When the driver saw me, he asked, “Are you Dorothy?” When I admitted that was my name, he let out a sigh of relief. “I’m glad to find you. I’ve been looking everywhere for you. There isn’t a 611 South Main in Ada.”

This was not the first time my mail or postal deliveries have wandered around Ada for several days before they finally found their way to Byng. I have learned always to list Byng along with or instead of Ada as my place of residence. Because many of Byng’s addresses are nearly the same as Ada’s addresses, we can help out the mailman or delivery person if we’ll get quite specific about where we live.

Anyway, I got flowers for Mother’s Day—three bouquets, actually, which I’ve enjoyed thoroughly, and I thank my lovely family and friends who sent them.

Speaking of Mother’s Day, I’m always amazed at the gracious things some people do, and I aspire to be more like them. Peggy Mannes, for example, made a lovely white carnation corsage for each of the women—at least 40, I’d guess-- who eat lunch at the Senior Center. With the corsage, she included a dainty, embroidered handkerchief. Peggy is very much into arts and crafts, and she probably had started several weeks ago to get this particular project completed.

The handkerchief we received reminded us that our culture and our nose-blowing habits have changed. You won’t find a young person, male or female, who owns a handkerchief. Peggy Pevehouse told us that a little girl who sat near her at church recently suddenly developed sniffles and she asked Peggy “Do you have a Kleenex?” Peggy said, “No, but I have a handkerchief.” The little girl looked perplexed and said, “What’s that?”

My friend, Lynda Dixon, collects handkerchiefs, and I often try to bring her one when I travel. Unfortunately, unless I’m on foreign soil, I find it harder and harder to locate a handkerchief to give her. If she keeps up with the times, Lynda may have to revamp her collection and include samples of various kinds and colors of nose tissues.

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I think I may inadvertently have given a wrong impression last week when I wrote about the resignation of Jasper Ligon, pastor at New Bethel church. Several people expressed regret that the family would be leaving the area. Not so. The Ligons are not leaving Ada. He will continue serving as chaplain for a local hospice group, and his wife, Holly, will continue as a special education teacher.

I understand that next year she will be teaching at Latta, and the boys will be attending school there also, so there will be less driving of children to various grade schools.

Illness among her family members who live some distance away has been a concern for the family, and he has not had the time he needs for pastoral duties. We wish them well as they prioritize their activities giving family first place, and I wish us good results as we search for a bi-vocational pastor.

Jasper preached his last sermon for us on Sunday evening, May 11.

Deacons met Sunday and agreed they would be responsible for locating a variety of speakers to fill the pulpit for two services on Sunday and one on Wednesday night. Probably within a month, the congregation will elect a Search Committee.

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More than 5,000 people attended the concert of the Singing Church Women, the Singing Church Men, and the Oklahoma Baptist Symphony at Moore last Tuesday evening. More than 800 musicians were involved in the first joint performance in three years, and they presented a concert that uplifted our spirits. Local women participating included Linda Cooper, Byng, and Ann Holman, Ada. They went early that morning for an all-day practice that began at 9 a.m. The church van took Tom Cooper, Winifred Poague, Freda and Bob Flatt, Floyd Holman and daughter Tawanna, and Dorothy Milligan, leaving at 4:45. Dave and Jodi Jackson and J.D. and Aundrea Thys followed us by automobile.

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When he had finished mowing our acreage last Friday, Lane Self, our upstairs live-in youth minister, asked if I had a lighter. I had one left from my wood-burning days, but as I started to look for it I asked why he needed it. He replied that he was going to get rid of the fire ants for me.

“Where are they?” I asked in alarm. He replied that there is a big hill of them near our driveway.

I really got alarmed then. “Those are not fire ants. They are family ants. They’ve been here longer than we have. We tried for five years to get rid of them and didn’t succeed, so we decided to co-exist with them, and we’ve enjoyed them. We’ve supplied ants for various ant farms that were projects for teacher education groups. Our ants have sent more of their children to college than any other ant hill in the nation (So far as I know).

“NO!” I was really getting excited now. “You must not disturb them. They’re not hurting a thing.”

Lane was looking slightly befuddled, but he said soothingly, “That’s all right. I understand. I think it’s cool that you like ants.”

He was so understanding that I considered telling him how independently wealthy I really am.

This year, I have my own personal whippoorwill who sings for me in the early morning and does an even better job than the one at the track.

I also have my own deer herd, and I did have my own row of poke salad in my front yard, but the ground cover has overrun the poke.

Oh, well, you can’t have everything!

        

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