Honey, Water and Fire

Want to hear about my three brushes with disaster? No? Too bad, you're already reading and now you are hooked. Only one was truly too close for comfort, but all three were interesting.

Grandpa and I were across the creek at his house cleaning up brush. Merrill had built a small building there, and there was a pile of lumber. Remember the song that was sung by The Edwards Trio many years ago? It went something like this, "When the Canaanites hardened their hearts against God And grieved him because of their sin God sent along hornets to bring them to task And to help His own people to win The hornets persuaded them that it was best To go quickly and not to go slow They did not compel them to go against their will They just made them willing to go If a nest of live hornets were brought to this room And the creatures allowed to go free You would not need urging to make yourself scarce You'd want to get out don't you see? They would not lay hold and by force of their might Throw you out of the window, oh no They would not compel you to go against your will They would just make you willing to go!" Just understand this...Grandpa and I were the Canaanites that day. And, you know what? It is best to go quickly and not to go slow! We jumped into the same creek that Grandma and I nearly drowned in (see previous blog about fishing). Grandpa twisted an ankle getting into the creek, and he was also stung twenty or thirty times. However, we both survived.

Not too long after that episode, the creek rose to flood stage. Normally, Painter Creek is a peaceful stream, maybe three feet deep in its deepest parts, six inches in other areas. When it floods, it can be eight to ten feet deep. Grandpa and I were on the bridge that Gene Shields helped him put across the creek. The water was rushing mere inches from the bottom of the bridge. A large piece of wood that Grandpa thought could be used for firewood was floating toward the bridge. I grabbed an oar from our famous boat and attempted to stop the piece of wood. The force of the floating wood came too close to flipping me off the bridge into the water. Between bees and firewood, Grandpa and I had quite the experiences around the creek.

Everyone knows that you should NEVER throw gasoline on a fire, right? I know that, too. And, I wouldn't do it. But, the week before Kim Lavy Marshall's wedding, I was burning brush here at my home. I know you are thinking, "What a dummy he was!" But, just listen and tell me where you know that I went wrong. I had a fire going. It went out and was no longer burning at all. Approximately, five to ten feet away, I stacked a bunch of brush. I got the gas can from the garage ( I hear you, there is where I went wrong!) and poured a large quantity of gas on the pile of brush. After soaking it, I turned around, walked away a few feet to set the can down. Behind me, the brush pile exploded into flame! The only explanation is that the fumes from the gas I had poured travelled along the ground to where the previous fire was. Enough heat remained to ignite the fumes, and the Lord was watching out for me is all I can say about that. If it had exploded while I was pouring, you wouldn't be reading my blog!

Thanks for reading. See you next time.

He Won What?!

I have known Phil Collingsworth for a long time. Many years ago, I sold him his first car. It was a bright blue 1976 Chrysler Cordoba. Now, this was way back, before those gray streaks started showing in Phil's hair. Of course, he might say that this was back when I had hair. That was a special car of mine. It was my honeymoon car. I am married to his sister, Rena, and we drove it to Gatlinburg in 1980. Now, he has paid me back many times over, by allowing me to drive his bus, Big Red, occasionally.

Phil has always been a city boy. He was raised in Dayton, Ohio, lived in Cincinnati and then Indianapolis. Then it was on to Rabbit Hash, Kentucky. So, it has always been the big city for him! Last year, we drove to Pennsylvania for a concert. We were making our way through the picturesque countryside, when Phil spotted a farmer out in the field beside the road. He was kneeling at the back of a cow lying in the grass. He said, "Lowell, pull this bus over to the side of the road." Phil jumped out, climbed the fence and went over to the farmer. He asked if there was something he could do to help. The farmer told him to grab hold of the little leg that was protruding from the cow and help pull! In a short while, a beautiful new calf was born. Phil was in awe, and the farmer asked if he could pay Phil for assisting. Phil, being the helpful man that he is, declined but said, "I do have one question. About how fast do you suppose that calf was going when he ran into the back of that cow?" I did say he was a city boy, didn't I?

OK, maybe some of that was not exactly accurate. The truth is that he grew up in Dayton, Ohio, and he entered a contest at WFCJ radio. They were giving away several gospel albums. This reminded me of my good friend Daniel Downing, who entered a similar contest in Cincinnati. They announced that the third caller would win the prize. Dan called. First caller, sorry. He redialed. Second caller, sorry. Once again he dialed. He won! But, I digress. Guess who won all those albums! I forget how many there were. Twenty-five or maybe fifty. There were a bunch of them. And, now look who is producing recordings today.

We are very proud of The Collingsworth Family. I know Grandma and Grandpa Collingsworth were very proud of them before they left us. It is easy to be proud of them when you see them singing on stage with gospel greats like Bill Gaither, Ben Speer, The Talleys, Lynda Randle and all the others. We were watching a live Gaither production on Daystar. Russ Taff was singing. As he finished, Bill came to the microphone and began the introduction for the next group. He said, "We'll start with the mother." And, Phil's wife, Kim came to the piano to play "How Great Thou Art" in front of the thousands at the Dallas-Ft Worth Gaither Concert. Next, Phil, Brooklyn, Courtney, Phillip and Olivia joined her on stage and sang "Not The Same". They are making a splash in the Southern Gospel Music world. If you haven't noticed, you will soon, if you are paying attention.

If you are interested, ask me about the windshield wiper problems on our last trip from Texas. Quite the picture I have in my mind - looking out the windshield at Phil with his hands thrown in the air and a look of confusion on his face.

Check out "thecollingsworthfamily.com" for pictures and info if you are not familiar with this group.

Dream Teams

Paul Lavy reminded me of the great softball excursion from many years ago. Someone in Indiana, don't even remember who or what city it was, challenged some of the Lavys to a softball game. I believe they assured someone that they would handle the Lavy team rather easily. That was all it took for the team to jump in their vehicles and head for Indiana on a Saturday.

I don't recall all of the members, but it was mostly Lavys and one Chester Beatty. All of them were a rather competitive group as you might imagine if you know any Lavys. There was one major obstacle to the day, as we soon found out on I-70 somewhere west of Richmond. It was the worst traffic jam in history. At a dead stop, many of the team members got out and warmed up for the game in the median. Finally, they routed traffic on to Rt. 40 and hours later we arrived at the game site.

I think we had two games scheduled, but due to the fact we were hours late, we only got one game in. If I remember correctly, the score was something like 19-1. Indiana did not win.

That got me to thinking about the athletic ability of the Lavy/Welbaum tribes. Of course, it doesn't work this way, but what if you could put everyone on a team in their prime! Here is a possible starting lineup for a softball game. Who's on first, What's on second, I Don't Know is on third...never mind, that's Abbott and Costello. You probably knew that from their famous radio dialogue.

Start with Don Lavy at catcher. I'll tell you why at the end. Let's put Harold Fourman at shortstop. Merrill Lavy in center. Dean Welbaum in left. Paul Lavy in right. Wayne Lavy in short field. Deon Welbaum at second. Duane Lavy at first. Lowell Lavy at third. Tom Welbaum pitching. There could be a lot of variations there, I realize. However, that team with reserves like Kevin Lavy, Dave Welbaum, Steve Lavy and Dan Welbaum would be formidable. I have probably forgotten somebody, also.

Why Don at catcher? One last quick story. We were in a close softball game at old Laura Stadium. In Laura, on 571, there once was a field by the water tower. We were playing the Old Order German Baptists. Someone from their team drilled one over Merrill Lavy in center field. An easy homer, right? Not so much. After retrieving the ball from near the water tower, he fired to Harold Fourman standing somewhere behind short. Harold relayed a perfect strike to Don at home plate. The batter had circled the bases with an apparent homer. The ball arrived at nearly the same time as the runner. Don was blocking the plate. The runner ran into Big Don, bounced backwards a few feet, and Don walked over to him and tagged him out! One of those instances you never forget.

Well, there you have it. Oh, by the way, I also remember years ago, when someone Don worked with at Hobart Brothers wanted to bet his paycheck that his basketball team could beat Don, Merrill, Harold, Deon and Dean. I think I was a sub then. Too bad Don wasn't a betting man or we could have all gone out to eat at Frisch's!

Fishing

Grandma Lavy and I were the only survivors of the boating accident that took place on Painter Creek many years ago. We were on board a fishing craft that was trying to dock. When it sank, we were able to save ourselves by flopping around in the six-inch deep water until we could get to our feet. Actually, no one else was on board the USS Lavy for that expedition. We sailed on the creek behind Grandpa's house in search of the great carp that live in those waters.

When I was about twelve, G and G Lavy and I went to supper at Gene and Mary Shields' house. Somehow the conversation got around to their Florida fishing trips, and Mary invited me to go with them. Fortunately, Grandpa loved to travel, so it was fairly easy to get him in the mood. For several years after that, we went to Ft. Myers, Florida yearly in February.

Fishing in the Gulf of Mexico is slightly different than Painter Creek fishing. We would fish in 50-60 feet of water, bouncing our shrimp-baited hooks off the bottom as we drifted. When a grouper, sheephead or red snapper hit, you had your work cut out for you pulling him to the surface. It was a great feeling to land them in the boat. On the way back to the marina, Gene would pull over to an island where he would fillet the fish and throw the scraps to the pelicans.

A few times we would tie up at an island, jump out of the boat and fish while wading in the surf. One of the most memorable times was when Bill Kuhnle and I stood next to each other in the surf while fishing for snook. I hooked a nice one and reeled him in. I think it was about a 24-inch fish. Those silver fish with a black stripe down the side are among the most delicious salt-water fish I've ever tasted (you should try a fried fish feast prepared by a pro like Mary Shields after an all-day fishing trip).

My fish looked like something out of Painter Creek next to the one Bill brought in right beside me. It was thirty-six inches long and I could put my fist in its mouth. Then, it was back in the boat and in to Four Winds Marina. Perhaps that night we had some blowfish and sheephead livers to add to the snook and snapper. What a feast it was!

Thanks, Grandpa, for taking me to Florida in February and providing me with some great memories. I came back to school with a suntan in the middle of winter. Gene and Mary are gone now, I believe. They were a big part of those memories, also.

Lezah Einnaf Snilloc

What a neat lady she was! Many of you never knew her. She died in about 1977 or 1978. I called her Lezah Snilloc, but her name was really Hazel Collins. She was Grandma Lavy's cousin, and I think she was a big reason why Grandma and Grandpa are Christians today. When you think about it, that is pretty important as you look at their family and the fact that most are followers of Christ.

Hazel lived in Pleasant Hill, Ohio. We lived in her house a few years after she died. But, it wasn't the first time I had been in that house. I stayed with her different times when Grandma and Grandpa were away. She was a short little lady, and as kind as anyone could be. I wrestled with her when I was a kid, and once she fell off the couch. She laughed as only she could, and warned me that the neighbors would hear.

She had a one-of-a-kind testimony in church. She was the kind of person that any pastor would want in their pew. I doubt if she had an unkind word for anyone.

She went to Michigan to go mushroom hunting with us. She would get tickled and laugh with us. She went with us to New Mexico to see Geneva when she was out at a mission hospital. She was a big part of our family, though she had no immediate family of her own.

Uncle Cyrl found her in her room when he went to pick her up for church one Sunday morning in May, if I remember correctly. I got my first speeding ticket coming home from Cincinnati for her funeral. I think she is buried north of Pleasant Hill at Sugar Grove. I'll never forget her.

I woke up this morning thinking of dear old Hazel Fannie Collins. Thanks, Hazel, for inviting Victor and Doris to church many years ago.

The Playhouse Theater

Mom, Ally, Dudley and I headed for the hallway. It sounded like a train was headed for the house. Limbs were pelting the siding, and we heard some unidentified thumps. After a few minutes the winds calmed and we were safe. We didn't know it until the next morning, but an old friend had left us during the storm.

Behind our garage sat the Playhouse Theater. It has been there longer than we have lived here. It was just an old outbuilding, used for storage. But, it was much more than that. I understand that our cautious kids used to jump from its roof when we were at work. We found out long afterwards that BJ nearly killed himself while jumping off. The girls assured him that he was fine (certain that they would be in big trouble if he wasn't).

My long-time enemy/friend, Chester Beatty came up one evening, and we treated the kids to a one-of-a-kind production of Laurel and Hardy. You can only guess who was Laurel and who was Hardy. I will only tell you this much - Chester was the one who got stuck halfway out one of the windows! And, so the Playhouse Theater was christened.

You would have to ask the LavyKids about what other things transpired inside those hallowed walls. Once, Remax found that a nest of bees had been built in one of the chairs. Fortunately, this was after Chester and I had performed there. That would certainly have livened up the show!

When I walked out the door the other morning, I could see the roof upside down at the back of the garage. The powerful storm had literally picked the playhouse up and turned it over, smashing it beyond repair. In an ironic twist, Regi had e-mailed me that very day, submitting some memories about the playhouse, and even asking for photos. Imagine her surprise when she found out that their very cherished friend had been destroyed.

Now that I think about it, I believe Chester was Laurel because he could cry just like Stanley. Anyhow, I think Ashley, Becky, Regi, BJ, Dani, Ally and even Esther and Rena thought we were absolutely, positively NUTS!

Cousins, Brothers and Enemies

Cousins first. I was about fourteen. I rode home from our country church with Cousin Dean. We had a lot of snow and over on Red River West Grove Road there was a drift that was too high to go through. So, we backed up and went around the other way to Byrely Road. The drifts were nearly as bad there. But, Dean was driving "Heber". Heber was Dean's first car, inherited from his grandpa, Heber. Seems like it was a '61 Ford Fairlane or some such powerful animal. With some fine driving we plowed through the drifts and since we were young and intellectual giants, we decided if Heber could make it through those drifts, he could surely make it through the drifts on RRWG Road. We went around to that road, now driving north (meaning away from home), and putting the pedal to the metal we plunged through the drifts like a snow plow. Shoot, even snow plows get stuck sometimes! The thing with snow plows is, they don't have to call Uncle Cyrl late at night when it is 15 degrees and blowing snow. He had to get on his tractor and drive about 4 miles in the bitter cold to rescue Dean, Lowell and Heber. If you knew Uncle Cyrl, you know I can't repeat everything he said that night. He never let us forget it. And, true to his style, he finally got his revenge. The day we buried him was bitterly cold, and the wind cut through us like a knife as we stood around the tent and sang "Shall We Gather At The River". And Dean and I recalled a night many years ago...

Brother! Oh, Merrill is nice enough, I guess, but years ago when I was small and helpless, I was invited up to his room. There he was on his bed on all fours acting like an ape. I think Don was the zookeeper, and I was to be the poor person who had to feed the ape popcorn! The ape nearly took my arm off when I reached through the bars to feed him! He hasn't changed all that much, but I just keep my distance now.

Lastly, enemies. When I first met Chuck, a.k.a. Charles, a.k.a. Chester, it was a frightening day for me. We were in Covington, Ohio, at Rick Beatty's wedding reception. I was attempting to decorate Rick's car when I was attacked by his little brother, Chester. "Leave my brother's car alone!" was the command. And so a new friendship was formed between Chester and me. Now, I consider him a very close friend. And, the story might be a little exaggerated as things tend to be over time. With enemies like Chester, who needs friends?