Faith gives us an anchor in a raging sea...

Calm in the midst of chaos,
vision to know right from wrong,
and the courage to express it.
(Hebrews 6:19)

Friday, May 23, 2008...from the beach

Hi there friends and relatives,

I've been enjoying hearing your comments about the new blog. It is fun posting news/events/articles and photos to share. Please feel free to pass the address on to your friends and relatives and to those in your email address books.

The new roof on the beach cabin is finished now and is certainly pretty up there. I had no idea the difference it would make.

The roofer gave us the paperwork and I was shocked to learn that the shingles were guaranteed for 30 years. I told Ted that it gave me a funny thought when I realized someone else would likely enjoy the balance of the good guarantee, unless we live to be really, really old. I've come to know that we must be grateful for every day of our lives and not to waste our time in worrying about the past or thinking too much about the future.

I've experienced five deaths in the past two months and because of what I learned during the aftermath of each, Ted and I spent one entire day getting all our life's paperwork in order. Living wills, power of attorneys, medical directives and regular wills all had to be completed, taken to the notary and signed in her presence. One of the last and best gifts you can give your family is to let them know what you want done in the event of your death and how your wishes are to be carried out in detail. It just simply helps eliminate needless confusion and heartache. There are excellent forms available on the Internet that can be downloaded and completed. Of course, if you are very wealthy or have lots and lots of assets, you might want to see a good attorney.

In honor of Memorial Day weekend, I am posting a writing I did concerning my father, Robert Henry Cannon, who died in WWII. I never saw my biological father and we only found out some time later after his death that he did receive a letter from home with a photograph and that he knew I had been born. May God bless every family who has made the ultimate sacrifice for America's freedom. It affects that family for the rest of each of their lives. I know that for certain.

The Dad I Never Knew

My Daddy was an army soldier
Who fought so America could be free
His giving up his life for us,
Changed everything for me.

When I was little and just learning
Love filled my life and years.
When I hit the teens head on,
There was struggle, thinking, and a few tears.

As I grew older and learned much more,
I found I missed him in the strangest places.
Wondering what he’d really look and be like
And trying to find him in all the strangers’ faces.

I wanted to determine if I was like him,
Or if he were more like me.
Did we laugh alike, smile the same,
Yearn to read and grow, whatever did he see?

My Dad wasn’t here for birthdays and graduation,
There was always just one empty seat.
He couldn’t walk me down the aisle,
Or my new husband and dear friends ever meet.

My little ones that I held so very close,
Never knew his tender touch or care.
His eyes never shone through a nursery glass,
And proudly said, "That’s her, over there!"

Choosing names like Grandpa, Papa, or Grandad,
Was never one of the many decisions they would make.
For us, it just wasn’t in God’s master plan.
And though it’s seldom voiced, there’s always a dull ache.

Reminding me of what life might have been like
Had he lived on through that fateful day of war.
But when all is said and done, in our tight family,
It only makes us all love America, our great country, more!

Although we gave what we sometimes think is far too much,
There are many others who gave the greatest of gifts, too.
So, here’s a warning -- best be careful when you are on our turf,
Of just how you treat Old Glory, our Red, White, and Blue.

For you see, it’s much more than a national symbol
Of love, acceptance, opportunity, pride, and very life.
Because of it, this child did not have an earthly father
And a young handsome husband was taken from his wife.

Many moments found him missing, and being sorely missed
Not just the night the yellow telegram came to our old farm door.
But hundreds of times when memory flecked across our heart
And made the vivid hurting pain a hard, biting, mean oozing sore.

Mostly wondering, wondering, wondering, what he would have done
How he would have acted and reacted, and where we would all be.
Would he have loved me as much as I love him, how did he look?
Are my brown eyes really his, and do I laugh and write on key?

Do my very movements and expressions bring back memories
And cause her eyes to fill ever so slowly with long unshed tears?
As she watches me in worship, in play, learning, and with the kids
And when I tell a funny story, is it his laughter my Mother always hears?

Those who knew him well say that he and I are just alike
I’m grateful, but yet I harbor a yearning to know if it’s really true.
Because, you see, having never seen him, I have no pattern
And I find myself "dreaming him up" almost out of the blue.

Oh, we’ve all gone on and lived our lives, found happiness and joy.
Raised our children, our children’s children, contributed to society.
Still, the haunting question oft rides through my mind and pricks my heart,
If he had come home from war, what would I really be?

Dedicated for Father’s Day to the memory of my dad, Robert Henry Cannon,
killed in action, July 2, 1943, United States Army, fighting for America…

…And in honor of wonderful Beaumont artist Herman Hugg who showed me for the very first time in pictures and in words where and how my Dad gave his life for he, too, was there on that hot, humid island in the summer of ‘43.

Until the next page turns,
Brenda

Monday, May 19, 2008 from the beach...

We're getting a new medium green roof put on the cabin and the workers are making a big noise up there.

Beautiful day on the Gulf. Slight breeze, warm sunshine and fluffy white clouds overhead.

Ted and I went out and surveyed all of our new growing fruit in the yard. Our 13 banana trees that we planted last year are thriving and we have a huge blossom on one with our own home-grown bananas to come shortly. We have two kinds of peaches thus far — the Belle of Georgia (in your honor, Ginger) and the Early Alberta. Both trees are doing great. I saw the first oranges today on our newest trees. And, I have flowers and plants.

There's just something healing about seeing things you've planted on your own land thrive and grow and some things do well in the Southeast Texas heat.

Perhaps you'll enjoy seeing the photos I took today.

Congratulations to Mr. George Straight (the reigning King of Country) on his 56th birthday. He celebrated it last night at the Academy of Country Music's 43rd Annual Awards with his 56th No. 1 country record. He sang "I Saw God Today," and as usual, it soared right to the top of the charts. He also performed a duet with Kenny Chesney, "Shift Work," which the audience loved. Chesney was voted Entertainer of the Year by his huge fan base.

Carrie Underwood and Brad Paisley were Female and Male Artist of the Year, respectively, and did a moving tribute to Eddy Arnold who passed away last month.

Congrats to Miranda Lambert on winning Album of the Year honors for "Crazy Ex-Girlfriend." She was introduced on the show by current boyfriend, tall and handsome Blake Shelton. I've interviewed Miranda three different times on her way up the charts and she is a down-to-earth, plain and simple Texas girl. She bought her sofa from Goodwill for $50 because she liked it — My kind of girl! Her dad plays in her band and she puts on a great show.

A duo out of Atlanta, Sugarland, had 10, count 'em, 10 nominations. Song of the Year was their hit, "Stay," which they introduced last year on the ACMs. They were also the duo of the year and performed a new release to the delight of the audience.

Rascal Flatts was honored as Home Depot's Home Town Heroes and performed on the show.

A real highlight of the night was when Garth Brooks performed a medley of his greatest hits, joined by Mrs. Garth, Trisha Yearwood, a Georgia girl. He was honored with the Crystal Milestone Award and it was announced that he had sold 128 million units of music.

Reba hosted the affair for the tenth time and joined old friends, Brooks and Dunn, in their new hit, "Put A Girl In It."

Keith Urban was in attendance with lovely wife, pregnant Nicole Kidman, and looked happy and rested. He also performed on the show.

Great three hours of country music with no wild goings on.

Until the next page turns,
Brenda

Shellseeking

I made this widget at MyFlashFetish.com.

Saturday Morning, May 17, from the beach on Bolivar...

I am getting the hang of this new "blogging world," and thus far, am enjoying it immensely. So good to hear from those of you who have logged on and read my posts. I especially appreciate those of you who have commented on one story or another. The pictures are fun and help to keep us up to date.

I am notified each time there is a "comment" made on my blog, so looking forward to hearing from more of you guys.

Luke and Trish - Loved the new pics of car show and dance you sent today! Millie - Good to hear from you, too, and Nelda, as always, good to catch up! Good luck on those diets and I'm excited about your coming trip. Tell Michael Happy 50th! It won't hurt him at all.

Cloudy grey skies today over the Gulf, but pleasantly cool for this time of the year. The water is as still as can be and looks like a giant mirror off the back deck. There's about ten ships at anchor waiting to be escorted by pilot ships into the Ship Channel or on to Galveston and Houston. This is not uncommon with traffic so heavy attempting to get products and services into port. Occasionally we see a giant oil rig being towed in for repairs or additions. Lots of drilling and exploring all over Texas just now and especially in the Gulf waters.

Fishing hasn't hit hard yet, although Ted and I caught about 30 ocean cats day before yesterday.

Life is good — filled with love and laughter and a real sense of peace. Retirement is wonderful. I love not having set schedules moderating my every action and I'm learning to sleep later each day it seems.

Will be posting more of my columns in the near future.

Let me know what you're interested in reading most.

Until the page turns,
Brenda

Learning lots from our grandchildren...

I appreciate the interaction I have with the readers of The Examiner. A kind gentleman walked up to me yesterday at the dedication of the Ben J. Rogers Regional Visitors Center and said he wanted to see the tan on my arms. I was puzzled for a minute until he said he had been reading the fish tales I had been writing and thought I surely would have a good tan from being on the water so much lately. We had a good laugh and enjoyed a few more of those hilarious fish tales that are surfacing right and left.

I also appreciate when the readers take time to share favorite writings or columns with me by way of the Internet or personal letter. Some of my very favorite ones have to do with grandchildren. I have the joy of having my eldest grandson, Steven, who is now 12 and lives in the Nashville area, visiting me for summer break. We have so much fun together and I confess I learn so much from him now. He knows far more about a computer than I do and he helps me identify current actors and singers that I’ve never heard of before until he or one of the other grandkids enlighten me. We play games for hours and hold intense discussions about all kinds of subjects that are interesting to both of us.

Children are generally kind and forgiving and can bounce back from unpleasant situations or bad experiences far better than their adult counterparts. They do not seem to be as inhibited and certainly not nearly as rude and unkind as adults can be when the pressures of life pile upon them. Children are most often eager to learn and are open and honest with all they meet. Oh, to have the minds, hearts and dispositions of our children.

Ginger Bragg Doster, who has been my close friend since third grade of school, (and believe me, that’s getting to be a long, long time now) has two precious dark haired, dark eyed granddaughters, Kylie and Korie, and she loves those girls of Dean and Elizabeth’s and is always planning special treats, trips and surprises for them. And, yes, I have seen literally hundreds of pictures of Gigi’s grandkids and been shopping for hours to find just the right souvenir or Christmas present for one or the other of them. But, hey, that’s what good girlfriends are for. I should add here that she’s certainly done the same for me.

Ginger sent me the following information this week and I loved it so much that I decided to share it with you. Remember, God gives us grandchildren so we will know that rearing our children was really worth it all.

Ginger said, “Grandmas are moms with lots of frosting.” I’m sure some of the sayings are writings my friend has collected from various authors and I have included the source when I could determine it for myself or if Ginger knew who the original author is.

Gene Perret is credited with saying, “What a bargain grandchildren are. I give them my loose change and they give me a million dollars’ worth of pleasure.” We do not know who first said, “Grandmothers are just ‘antique’ little girls.” An old Welsh proverb declares, “Perfect love sometimes does not come until the first grandchild.” One little tyke told his teacher, “A grandmother is a babysitter who watches the kids instead of the television.” Gore Vidal wrote, “Never have children, only grandchildren.” Pam Brown said, “Becoming a grandmother is a wonderful thing. One moment you’re just a mother. The next you are all-wise and prehistoric.” The same Gene Perret whom we quoted earlier, also wrote, “Grandchildren don’t stay young forever, which is really good because grandfathers have only so many horsey rides in them.”

Ogden Nash said, “When grandparents enter the door, discipline flies out the window.” I love what Marcy DeMaree said, “Grandma always made you feel she had been waiting to see just you all day long and now the day was complete.” One young school child said, “Grandmas never run out of hugs or your favorite cookies.”

Hannah Whithall Smith wrote, “If becoming a grandmother was only a matter of choice, I should advise every one of you straight away to become one. There is no fun for old people like it.” Mary H. Waldrip believes that “Grandchildren are God’s way of compensating us for growing old.” One old proverb I discovered teaches, “You do not really understand something unless you can explain it to your grandmother.”

“Grandmother-grandchild relationships are quite simple,” said one unidentified writer. “Grandmas are short on criticism and long on love.” Alex Haley, famous author of “Roots” and other works, wrote, “Nobody can do for little children what grandparents do. Grandparents sort of sprinkle stardust over the lives of little children.” Joy Hargrove wrote, “One of the most powerful handclasps is that of a new grandbaby around the finger of a grandfather.”

Teresa Bloomingdale said, “If your baby is ‘beautiful and perfect, never cries or fusses, sleeps on schedule and burps on demand, an angel all the time,’ you’re the grandma.” Bill Cosby said, “What is it about grandparents that is so lovely? I’d like to say that grandparents are God’s gifts to children. And if they can but see, hear and feel what these people have to give, they can mature at a fast rate.”

Perhaps my favorite is, “Grandmas hold our tiny hands for just a little while, but our hearts forever.” And may I add, so do the grandchildren. Mine cannot only wrap me around any finger they choose much of the time; they hold a very large part of my heart and life.

How we should thank God for our little ones and the pure joys they bring to our lives.

“Lo, children (and grandchildren) are a heritage of the Lord, and the fruit of the womb is his reward.” (Psalm 127:3)

Brenda Cannon Henley can be reached at (409) 781-8788 or at brendacannonhenley@yahoo.com.

Be reminded that hope springs eternal for believers

When my husband and I arrived in Amarillo on March 7, most of the trees were brittle and bare with nothing but brownish grey twigs sticking out in every direction. What grass is here in the High Plains was also a brownish grey color with very little life left to behold by way of the visible eye. Dried out tumbleweeds rolled across expressway lanes and bustled into fields, gathering against the ever-present fencerows.

The terrain offered precious little hope for the beginning days of spring that were to follow in a few short days. The Texas long horn cattle seemed to be constantly searching for a few blades of green grass to eat and were very dependent on their owners to put out fresh hay each day.

It is no wonder that the folks who came to west Texas to settle this rugged land had to be made from sturdy stock and able to withstand terrible onslaughts of unpredictable weather, long periods of snow and ice and winds that are unimaginable until you’ve seen and felt them first hand. I had been hearing about the northern winds that blow up out of nowhere, but I now have experienced them gusting up to 30 or 40 mph and coming without any warning at all. On a typical day in early spring in Amarillo in the heart of the High Plains of Texas, it is not uncommon to have snow, sleet, rain, gusting winds and dust storms all within a 24-hour period of time.

The standard joke is “if you don’t like the weather here in the Panhandle, stick around and it will change soon.” A good half of the newscasts each night is dedicated to weather that might change or remain the same.

We’ve been here at our home in the Panhandle for a little over four weeks this visit, and lo and behold, things have changed drastically. We were down at the city administration buildings one day last week and I took pictures of beautiful pink crab apple blossoms that seemed to light up the parks and streets. Tulips and pansies were in competition for color and hints of spring in many of the manicured flowerbeds which surrounded the city offices. Those dry, brittle trees now had little green buds and tiny leaves shooting out all over reminding onlookers that God is still in His heaven and that He is still in control. The seasons change at His instruction and the beauty that we love and admire are gifts from His hand.

These reminders of new life, rebirth and springtime were welcome intruders for us and for several families we’ve spent time with during our visit. During those bleak days between winter and spring, one friend of ours was notified that his mom was seriously ill and hospitalized with little hope of recovery. Dutch left Amarillo and drove to Plainview to be with his beloved mother. The doctors said there was little hope and transferred her to a hospice service on Friday. On Saturday morning, we received word that she had died from her many different medical conditions. The three children, now grown, started to plan her funeral service and burial.

On Sunday morning, a mutual friend, came over to our house early in the day and said, “I’m so sorry to bring this news, but Dutch’s family has had another death. His 57-year-old sister, also named Brenda, had been the chief caregiver for the 87-year-old mother.

Dutch and his sister, Patty, were on their way to her home to complete the funeral arrangements when the phone rang and the brother in law said in a broken voice, “Brenda is dead. “When I went in to wake her this morning, I found her dead in our bed.”

No one could believe the news at first. It took a while to settle in and then the reality was just terrible. Brenda left three children and several grandchildren. What was left of the family now had two funerals and burials to plan for within hours of each other. Ted and I drove to Vernon, Texas and attended the memorial service with two flower-draped caskets at the front of the funeral home.

Two days later, our phone again rang with sad news. One of Ted’s former students had died suddenly of a heart condition. His 14-year-old son had found him dead in his recliner in Venus, just outside of Fort Worth. Jon had been an outstanding student at Tascosa High School, active in several organizations and one of Ted’s two state presidents in the VICA organization (now called SkillsUSA). He had been a ranking employee in the Texas Bankers Association and presently served as the budget officer for the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals. Death came so suddenly to the promising 45-year-old father.

We drove to Plainview for this service and spent time with the family and friends who were still in a state of shock over their loss. Three funerals in just a few short days brought home again the truth that life is not promised to any of us. Jon was 45, Brenda was 57 and Dutch’s mom was 87, but not one family member was ready to give them up to the grave.

As we drove home from the memorial service in Vernon, we began to notice the first signs of spring. Buds were on trees and bushes and there was some green in the grasses and fields that we passed. We were reminded once again that God is in control and that He determines everything that happens to us. Hope springs eternal for those who put their trust in the Lord. He is able to keep them in every situation and in every sorrow and to bring a new day of life everlasting. Our friends will see their loved one again if they put their trust in Christ. He has gone to prepare a place for us, according to John 14, and we are told in Scripture that it will be a beautiful place beyond our human imagination.


“My hope is as an anchor, both sure and steadfast…” (Hebrews 6:19)

Brenda Cannon Henley can be reached at (409) 781-8788 or at brendacannonhenley@yahoo.com.

'Grandmother' by any other name — still a wonderful title

Photo by Brenda Cannon Henley

Steven Brown and Brendan Jones play in the surf.


Titles mean more to some folks than they do to others. Often, young professionals strive and work long hours climbing the corporate ladder to get that first fancy title on their job. Others choose to use rueful methods to snow the boss or the board in an effort to have a new title attached to their John Doe. In later years, titles often are bestowed to show honor or appreciation for a job well done.

In the course of my years of employment, I enjoyed several titles and was rightfully proud of achieving the steps required to get each one. I was an administrative secretary when I first began working, then later assistant to the pastor, financial secretary, and much later in my career, assistant to the editor and conference coordinator. I like the word, ‘writer,’ and for my first three and one half years at The Examiner, I was a staff writer and had that title placed under every byline. In my last year and a half, I was the Life Editor and loved that title, too, although I took some teasing about it from time to time.

I’ve also been called mother, sister, daughter, niece, wife, sister in law, board member, president of several associations and historian for another, and for the last dozen or so years, “MaMa,” pronounced more like MawMaw, but spelled with the two capital “M’s.” Steven, my eldest grandson, now 13, chose what I would be called when he simply started saying, “MaMa, I’m hungry.” Or, “MaMa, I’m sleepy.” Or, “Let’s go.” As the other grandchildren came along, they mimicked him and also called me MaMa. When my mother is around the children, for clarification, the clan calls her “Big MaMa” and I am referred to as “Little MaMa.” Each of these distinctions came from my grandchildren without any adult prompting or persuasion.

It has always rather amazed me at how children come up with the titles they choose to use for the adults in their lives. My good friend, Ginger Doster, in Atlanta, is called “GiGi” by her two granddaughters who heard people saying, “Ginger” when they were very small. They could not quite grasp “Ginger,” so they quickly shortened it to “GiGi” and Ginger loves her title. I have many friends who are called “Nana” by their young and others who are called “Mama” or “MawMaw.” Some still use the older term, “Granny,” but no one in my family would be caught doing that for my mother or for me.

My son’s children call my eldest daughter, DeAnna, “Nami,” and we assumed it is their version of love wrapped around a name they could not quite understand, born by an individual who gives them undivided attention and lots of old fashioned fun. They all want Nami to take them home with her, or to the park, or the store or outside to play or out to eat at a favorite spot.

Whatever word is used, the relationship is indescribable until you’ve become a grandparent. Ask any new grandmom or granddad how they felt when seeing that baby for the first time or what their expression was when the child was handed over to be held. It is one of God’s choicest gifts and one to be treasured and respected. A humorist has said that God gives us our grandchildren to reward us for not killing our kids when they were growing up in our homes.

Good grand parenting also bears some responsibility and it is sad that in this day and age families live so far apart that these family ties are not perhaps as strong as they once were. The very global nature of our existence and the scope of travel make family get-togethers rare and difficult to maintain.

My hat is off to grandparents, who for whatever reason, are rearing their grandchildren. It is not easy to begin parenting again when retirement looms on the horizon and bodies are not quite as strong as in earlier days. The costs for rearing and educating any child are ever growing and demands are placed on the elderly that are physical, financial and emotional.

Lin Yutang observed, “Of all the rights of women, the greatest is to be a mother. And, if motherhood is the world’s greatest privilege, surely grand-motherhood is among the world’s greatest delights. The role of grandmother can be a joyful experience indeed, but wise grandmothers do much more than simply play with their grandchildren or baby-sit them. Thoughtful grandmothers serve as enduring, lifelong role models. Through words and deeds, a grandmother’s influence extends beyond time and space, weaving itself as an unbroken thread through future generations. In truth, a grandmother’s impact upon her family lasts a lifetime…and beyond.”

Let us be wise stewards of all of our titles — including that of grandmother. God has honored us with this gift.

Brenda Cannon Henley can be reached at (409) 781-8788 or at brendacannonhenley@yahoo.com.

Einstein said, 'Out of clutter, find simplicity'

Stuff — Where do all these things come from and what am I to do with them? The older I get the more stuff I collect, and I don’t like that. I like clean and neat and orderly and everything in its place. Having recently cleaned out my personal office at The Examiner after a five-year stint in the same building when I entered semi-retirement left me bewildered and very tired.

Bringing all of the stuff home, unpacking and adding this load to the contents of my new office at the beach cabin was a huge task. I thought I had discarded everything I possibly could. I threw away things I really wanted to keep or things that I might need some day.

Do you have any idea how large a stack five years’ worth of reporter’s notebooks can make? I threw them away twice and my husband retrieved them twice. “You really might want these names and numbers,” he said, ever the thinker. “These little notebooks represent a lot of work for you.” Behind my back, he carefully placed every one of them into a large plastic tub (on the bottom) and layered other things on top so I couldn’t see them.

Friends and family generously shared their time to help with the chore and bless Ted’s heart, he had to be exhausted packing, loading, unloading and unpacking all those boxes. Every single sheet of paper I picked up had the remnants of a story or an interview I had done and I often found myself simply sitting and thinking about the outcome. A crazy note from Jennifer about a story she was doing, a thank you card from Shauna that I treasured, notes from Jerry about my first drug bust in Port Arthur, leads from Chad that turned into great stories, congratulations from friends when I had won awards, notes from Don about stories he wanted me to do, pictures of the office staff at parties and, of course, the cards, notes and pictures from my recent retirement party all had to be saved for posterity’s sake. How could I toss them in the trash?

One complete filing cabinet drawer represented the many hours I had worked on Walter Bell’s case from the time he was on Texas Death Row, to his hearing and move to Rusk State Hospital, and the subsequent communications and small gifts I had received over the years from the inmates. These things just could not be discarded. Another filing drawer held the many pieces of research, records of interviews and The Examiner articles on the subject of consensual teenage sex. (By the way, this subject has been covered in a special series last month on ABC’s 20/20 and was very interesting. Frank and Nikki Rodriquez, a couple I interviewed for my story, were on the national television series. We all are so glad that this subject is getting media attention on a national scale and trust that it will continue until legislation is changed.)

I could never replace that material or the contacts we had made and with each note came a batch of emotion quickly unfurling as I remembered the people and their stories.

We went out and bought more plastic boxes because the humidity at the beach is hard on papers and books and as I worked to organize this new part of my life, the stacks seemingly grew rather than decreased. I was feeling pretty overwhelmed, and on top of the stacks of paper and books, I had come down with a bad case of the flu, which had swept through our offices leaving many barely moving. I felt I was working in slow motion.

During the course of this unpacking, reorganizing and seeing things I had not glanced at in a long while, a very old book showed up on my desktop. A girl who worked for me in the Atlanta area, Tracey Townsend, bought it for my birthday many years ago. The book is “Simple Abundance — A Daybook of Comfort and Joy” by Sarah Ban Breathnach and I have found wonderful treasures in its pages. Some years later, I was able to find and buy the sequel to this book, “Something More — Excavating Your Authentic Self,” by the same author.

In an entry entitled “An Elegant Art: Learning that Less Is More,” I found encouragement to keep only what really mattered or what could not be replaced and I learned a lot about the fact that less really is often better than more.

“Many people think that Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, one of the founders of the modern architectural movement, was the first to declare that ‘less is more,’” said Breathnach. “Surprisingly, it was the English poet Robert Browning, writing in 1855. But what applies to architecture and poetry applies equally to personal style and the art of home caring and organizing.”

“Elegance is the art of restraint,” said Breathnach. She said that famous, wealthy women known for their chic sense of style keep their looks uncluttered: comfortable, beautifully tailored suits in neutral palettes for day; simple, graceful dresses for evening; well-bred accessories that never overpower but always strike the right note. “What sets an elegant woman apart from the crowd is her quiet self-assurance; she knows that ‘she’ is what’s worth focusing on and not what she’s wearing.”

Reading further, I found sound advice in three words, “Simplify, simplify, simplify.” Get rid of things you do not use. Share them with others who would or could use them. “Spring cleaning or a move of any kind can be a perfect opportunity for seeking order within. Cleaning and organizing can be psychological, a time-out to confront the emotional clutter that has accumulated in your mental closet,” writer Abigail Trafford said. “It’s a pause for introspection — a break and correction for ordinary people in ordinarily stressful lives.”

Breathnach is quite comical in some of her approaches. She said she once started a search for the common thread in the lives of the world’s great spiritual leaders — Jesus Christ, Mohammed, the Hebrew prophets, the Catholic saints, the Shakers, the Quakers and the Amish, to look at a few. “You know what I discovered?” asked Breathnach. “None of them had junk drawers. The all embraced simplicity.” She said, “I think our lives are frittered away by lack of focus. But how can we focus our attention on what’s truly important when we’re half-crazed because we can never find anything? Find that breathing space you need. Do your best to determine a place for everything in your home and launch an extended campaign to see that each item goes in its intended space.”

I remember once when all three of my children were in different schools and I had so many notes, projects, books and meetings, I felt I as if I were meeting myself coming back, I stopped one day and bought three different brightly colored tubs, which I placed in the entry way of our home. The red, yellow and blue plastic tubs probably would not have won a “Home Beautiful” award, but they sure helped me help my children to find needed schoolbooks, reports, lunches, gym bags and occasionally a little love note from Mama. Brent’s things were in his blue tub. DeAnna chose the bright red one for her things and Nikki got the yellow one. Everything they would need for the next day was required to be in the proper tub the night before. It worked.

Reminding myself, too, that it doesn’t all have to be done today, I stopped and took a break — a few moments of just sitting, resting and reflecting.

“Let all things be done decently and in order.” (1 Corinthians 14:40)

Brenda Cannon Henley can be reached at (409) 781-8788 or at brendacannonhenley@yahoo.com.

View from the seat of a Texas saddle

The trail dust was heavy filling his eyes, ears,
and throat until it was grainy and raw.
Swallowing and sucking at the little bit of saliva
had now become a hard earned pleasure.
Old Dan was tired from the old cowboy pushing him to cover
a few more miles before calling it a day.
The sun was sinking in the cloud filled blue gray sky,
but still way Texas hot!
The creaking of the leather saddle
under his new found heavy weight,
Made him realize that he had been around
longer than the creek bank dirt.
The aches and pains in his neck
and back reminded him of the bad spills,
the time the horse he was breaking
got away from him and punched a big hoof
in the middle of his back.
But, hell, he could still rope and ride
with the best of the young ones.
And, he had the spread to think of...
Good horses, sturdy cattle, clean house,
safe place to sleep, tasty food, clear stream,
old friends, new acquaintances, and his woman!
She'd be waiting on the porch to hear
the hoof beats coming through the gate!
Announcing with each clippity-clop, "I'm home again!"
Somehow, she always knew it was him
without ever looking out the sparkling kitchen window.
She could feel it in her heart first,
and then in her mind, and then in all those
other places his coming home touched.
He chuckled as he envisioned the slow smile spreading
across her face in welcome
in that special way reserved only for him.
The sparkle in her eye let him know
that more than a good meal and a clean bed
awaited his return.
She had been missing him bad...
...that was evident from the way she would
throw her arms around him in that long bear hug
and then walk toward the house
with her arm linked securely in his arm.
The cool inviting stream beckoned to him
to pull up here in the little clearing
for the campfire meal and a little shut eye
before going the final day tomorrow.
With wild abandon, he stripped off his dirty
trail encrusted clothes and walked into the water.
Age, dirt, tiredness, bad decisions, bad company, and bad
memories quickly washed away in the cool, clear water.
The water was deep enough for him to swim in
and that he did while his clothes dried on a rock.
All he saw now was the sinking orange ball
that had hours ago been the hot sun
beaing down on him and Old Dan.
Sun and wind dried, he put on his almost dry clothes
and set about to make his fire for the night.
Brewed some strong black coffee
and searched for the last of his provisions to eat.
As the fire was dying down, and with a full stomach,
he glanced back up at the sky which had now made its way to a pale shade of navy.
He saw the first silver twinkling of night stars
as they nestled in the Heavens.
Unrolled his blanket with years of experience on his side, banked the fire, surveyed the area one last time,
and made sure Old Dan was safe for the night.
Eased his big old tired frame down
to the soft earth and did not remember
pulling the cover around him.
Seemed to him like only minutes,
but hours passed while his tired body rested.
First stirring of light and dawn hit him full in the face.
The old cowboy fixed more coffee and something to eat,
scattered the ashes, and fed and watered Old Dan,
as they had their usual morning conversation.
"Going home, today, Dan, finished our business,
closed the deal, and made some pocket change."
Rode hard, but not hard enough to wear out Old Dan,
made good time, and knew his land was just over
the next little rise.
As the spread came into view,
he saw land that his Grandfather had fought for and won,
land that his own Dad had turned around
and made profitable.
More land had been bought, new cattle brought in,
horses broken and added to the corrals, railroads
were built, Texas oil was found, and money was made.
As the old cowboy rode along his own fence row,
he realized again how very blessed
he’d been to choose right the first time,
to live off of and on the land, his land,
to find simple abundance in tending his animals,
planting his crops, visiting with his neighbors,
sitting on his own front porch,
fishing in his stream, and feeling that giant
rush of pure contentment.
"Must be gettng older," he thought, as he
rode Old Dan the last few miles of the way.
He smiled as he remembered the women who'd loved him,
and the only one he'd chosen.
He thought about friends he'd protected,
and those who had stuck by him.
He considered deeds that he'd done
that made things worse,
and those that he'd done that had made things better.
All in all, he finally decided,
from his seat in the saddle,
that he had better than broke even
in this thing called life!
And, he knew in his heart that there was no other
way of life for him other than cowboying,
He would do it till he died!




Brenda Cannon Henley
May 30, 2002
for Dave Clemens, one of the last true old Texas cowboys
brendacannonhenley@yahoo.com
(409)781-8788

Let's learn to live today...while we can

What are we waiting for? Let’s learn to live life today to the fullest!

The older I become, the more I’ve come to realize this sad fact. People, including good Christian people, are always waiting for one other thing to happen in their lives or for something to change before they begin to live the good life they’ve been planning on living for years. Life is always in the future — and not in the present.

Men and women are both guilty. Neither gender is exempt from falling into this trap. Young men want to get their education and establish themselves in a profitable career before they settle down into rearing children, and that’s good and commendable, but sometimes circumstances don’t work out that way. Young women want to get that next new home or a better job or have some beauty procedure done before they get on with life. Or, they want to meet the perfect man who will bring them the happiness they desire and deserve.

Perhaps God’s timing is different and should be considered seriously.

I recently talked with a young lady whose heart and soul is entrenched in obtaining a new home and exquisite décor, basically to keep up with the Joneses. In this case, it happened to be the women’s sister-in-law and her husband she wanted and needed to keep up with, or so she thought. She had two precious children, but the little blonde boy and dark-eyed little girl seemed almost secondary in her thinking. She was willing to sacrifice time, money and energy to get what she wanted. Everything had to be a name brand from a reputable store. Nothing but the best was truly her motto for life. Shopping and having things encompassed her thought patterns and her everyday conversations.

It was obvious to even a casual observer that her children needed her and she didn’t even know it — or so it seemed. Both were hungry for personal attention and needed loving care. Their clothing was not what it could have been and meals were quick, throw-togethers without much thought. Farming the kids out for someone else to keep apparently was the pattern in this home and the young mother thought nothing of asking a friend or neighbor to keep either or both for the day while she shopped and spent.

When the father arrived home for the night, supper was a hurried and loud affair with no one really hearing what the other person was saying. Getting the kids bathed and into bed was a struggle that involved screaming and shouting and threats all around. There was little love demonstrated and certainly no time given for home training or for a quiet bedtime story or even conversation about the day’s events. The memories this family is building will not be Kodak moments in the future unless things are changed immediately.

Older folks are guilty, too. We believe we must wait until we obtain that perfect job. We are on our professional career path and we work like dogs to get where we want to go often trampling on those around us as we climb that corporate ladder. Our bodies and our minds are literally worn out by the time we get home to share what should be the most important time with family and dear friends. We burn out, wear out, bum out or are displaced because we can no longer keep up, and yet, we are still waiting to start living.

Many of us say, either consciously or subconsciously, “when we retire, we’ll begin living,” but I wonder if we haven’t been practicing living all those years, will we really know how to begin living when we are not longer accountable to the time clock or the boss? Or, by then, will we be so entrenched in the hurry up and wait cycle that we cannot break out of it?

Christian workers are not exempt either. I’ve seen so many “professional” Christians, people who serve on church staffs and in our Christian education circles, who are simply working so hard to get ahead or to be successful that they’ve actually forgotten why they are there in the first place. They are so deeply ingrained in doing the Lord’s work that they don’t really accomplish much. And, motives — who has time for them? How long has it been since we’ve really taken the necessary time to examine our motives? Why do we do what we do? The answers might just shock us into reality again.

God has promised His people an abundant life. He wants us to enjoy the beauty He has created. He planned for us to enjoy living our lives. We are becoming our own worst enemy. When did you and your family enjoy a loud laugh last? When did you and your children enjoy a new discovery together? What game did you engage in last with your family? When did you travel together for a really fun trip, not business, not because of sickness or not necessarily to see relatives? What do you have planned, as a parent, for spring or summer fun for the entire family? Will you manage to do anything together?

Gratitude for His bounty and His wonderful gifts is a good starting point to the beginning of truly enjoying our time on earth. Enjoying natural wonders He has created is great for families and close friends. Our families and our children and our friends need us now. They may not be here to need us tomorrow. Or, we may not be here to be needed. These are grim facts, but oh, so true. One friend of mine recently said she had attended 11 funerals of good friends since Jan. 1 of this year. How sad.

A lifetime is actually pretty short when you think about it. The Bible mentions three score and ten years — 70 years, and many don’t make it that far because of health issues, worry or accidents in the fast lane in which we choose to live our lives. We bury folks every day who never started living the lives they planned to live. Many die before they ever leave the starting gate. And they certainly don’t make it around the track of a long life.

Somehow, while folks were waiting to begin living, life got away from them. One writer recently said, “Life is what happens to us while we are living every day.” I challenge every reader of The Examiner today to start living the life you planned to live beginning today as you read this column. If we don’t live today and tomorrow, when will we live?

Surely, we are intelligent enough beings to know that time stands still for no one. This fact was called to my own personal attention a few days ago in a very real and dramatic way. I have buried way too many family members and friends that I’m not certain ever learned to live the way they planned. We must not dream our lives away — we must live them away very carefully and courageously.

“Remember how short my time is…” (Psalm 89:47)

“Redeeming (or cherishing) the time…” (Ephesians 5:16)

Brenda Cannon Henley can be reached at (409) 781-8788 or at brendacannonhenley@yahoo.com.

Continuing our discoveries into the authorship of church music

By Brenda Cannon Henley
Senior Correspondent for The Examiner in Beaumont, Texas

Last week in this column we discussed the importance of good church music and it’s relevance to the overall church service. We looked at the popular old hymn “Amazing Grace” and how it came to be written.

Today, we look at “Just As I Am,” another of the very old and very popular hymns of our youth, and a standard when thinking of Christianity. This song is used in many congregations on a weekly basis when the time for decisions to be made comes usually at the conclusion of the service. “Just as I am, without one plea, but that Thy blood was shed for me, and that Thou biddest me come to Thee, O Lamb of God, I come, I come.” All seven of the popular verses were written by Charlotte Elliott (1789-1871).

Elliott seemed to have everything goes for her as a young woman. She was gifted as a portrait artist and also as a writer of humorous verse. Then in her early thirties she suffered a serious illness that left her weak and depressed. During her illness a noted minister, Dr. Caesar Malan of Switzerland, came to visit her. Noticing her evident depression, he asked if she had peace with God. She greatly resented the question and said she did not want to talk about it.

After a few days and much thought given to the subject, Elliott went to apologize to the minister. She said that she wanted to clean up some things in her life before becoming a Christian. Malan looked at her and answered, “Come just as you are.”

That was enough for Elliott and she yielded her life to the Lord that day.

Fourteen years passed and she remembered those words spoken to her by Malan in Brighton, England. She penned the simple hymn that has been used to touch the hearts of millions who have also responded to Christ’s invitation to come just as they are.

Aren’t you glad that Christ does not require one to clean up, fix up, dress up, or even stand up to come to Him for salvation? He invites us one and all to come just as we are on the day or night we hear His voice speaking to our heart. Just as I was, a frightened, uncertain teen away at a church camp in Tocoa Falls, Georgia, I heard a clear presentation of the Gospel message from a young minister who seemed to care, but what touched by heart was a solo just before he spoke sang by a young man from Cuba. He stood and calmly and certainly sang “The Love of God” and every heart in the crowd seemed to be touched by his message in song. He appeared to me, even then an inquisitive person, to know what he was singing about.

I knew little of the love of God, but right away in my heart, I knew I had a desire to know and experience love such as he sang about in his song. When the invitation started, I stepped out and went forward where, thank God, trained, professional counselors provided by the Alliance church met me and took me into a private room where my questions were freely answered and I gave my heart and life to the Lord. Did I understand it all at the time? No. Did I know the Word of God better? No, not at the time. Did I have a visual experience or feel anything particularly astounding? No, but while I was praying the simple prayer, I did experience a sense of peace and calmness in my soul that I had never known before in my sixteen years of living. As I began to grow as a Christian and attend church services, I learned more about the Word of God, the great gift that I had been given and how to serve the Lord more with my own life.

You might be wondering if I’ve always lived perfectly right since the time of my conversion. The answer to that is, “no.” I’ve failed and slipped up, but I’ve never been forsaken by the God in Heaven Who gave His son for our salvation and Who invites us to come — just as we are today to Him.

In discussing this religious or character-based column with a very educated young man recently, I was shocked to hear him say, “I like you Miss Brenda, but I don’t read your column. I just can’t believe all that malarkey about a God in Heaven Who allows all of the bad things go on here on earth. I just don’t believe like you do. In fact, I don’t believe there is a Heaven or Hell.”

I’ve been thinking about that conversation a lot lately and I’ve been praying for my young friend. I suppose everything in life is really a choice and his choice is not to believe, or at least to say he doesn’t believe, while mine is to believe. God created us to be free moral agents and to make our own choices, but those choices do have consequences. My question to my young friend is, “Josh, what if, just if, in the end, I am right and you are wrong?”

It will make all the difference in where he spends eternity. If he is right and I am wrong, it really won’t matter much, will it? But, because I am a Christian, I will have the benefit of believing that faith is important, have help in making the right decisions and a remarkable peace to guide me through this life.

For those of you who don’t believe, please consider the alternatives and be reminded today that God wants you to come, too, just as you are to Him. He is waiting with open arms to receive you unto Himself.

Brenda Cannon Henley can be reached at (409) 781-8788 or at brendacannonhenley@yahoo.com.

The importance of good music in a church service

Good music is so important in many areas of our lives, but nowhere is it more significant than in our worship. But what is good music? How do we know it is considered good? Who makes the rules?

A friend of mine and I were talking recently about a formal church service she had attended and she related her amazement at how much the church she visited had changed over the years. The guest was clearly fond of the preacher and the close friendships she had with the members of the congregation, but she was agitated about the type and duration of the music. “They sang one song seven times,” she said. “I just don’t get it. What happened to the good old hymns of our youth where there was a real message in the words and they meant something to everyone who sang them?”

I confess I tend to align myself with the more conservative music I know from my past, and perhaps, it is because that is what I am most comfortable with at this stage in my life. I’ve heard many choirs, soloists, musical presentations and orchestras over the years in working with various churches, but in my book, you really just cannot beat the old hymns of the faith for meaning, sincerity and depth. Most were written from an experience the author had in his own life or from one he or she observed in the lives of others. Many are based on a particular Scripture that was of supreme importance to the writer.

My husband often teases me about being “stuck in the past and only liking the old church songs,” and perhaps he is more right than he knows. When I hum “Amazing Grace” or “Jesus Paid It All,” too often for his liking, he’ll say something like, “Don’t you know another tune?” Or “Can’t you switch gears?” I do like many of the songs Bill and Gloria Gaither have written in recent years and can usually switch over to one of theirs such as “Because He Lives” or “My Anchor Holds.” Bill and Gloria are wonderful people, remarkable Christians, talented artists and savvy businesspeople, whom I’ve known and loved for many years since I first met them on our national conference programs. This one couple has given their lives to getting good Gospel music to the masses and their ministry is bigger than ever today.

My former pastor, Curtis Hutson, often said that good church music sets the stage for the Gospel message and that the soloist who sings just prior to the beginning of the sermon has much responsibility placed on his or her shoulders. I clearly remember Dr. Hutson asking for a slow, meditative, Scriptural-based song to always be sung just prior to him delivering his message. He felt the music helped the hearers prepare their hearts for worship or learning. Now, this is certainly not to say that Dr. Hutson and our congregation did not enjoy several rousing spiritual songs in every service and we often had long, evening singings where folks came and sang their hearts out for whomever had gathered to hear them.

I also had the privilege of working with Dr. Alfred B. Smith, a great composer, who wrote many songs and several books on the subject of church music. Dr. Smith had spent a lifetime accumulating information about the authorship of certain songs. He had many original manuscripts and pieces of unlikely paper where authors had hurriedly dashed out lyrics while on planes, in restaurants and in hotel rooms or even while sitting on the pulpit waiting to sing in a service. One of my favorites that Dr. Smith wrote hurriedly one evening is “His Banner Over Me Is Love.” It is a happy little song that makes my heart rejoice every time I hear it.

“Amazing Grace” is one of the oldest and most held dear of the church hymns. I read the story recently of its authorship by John Newton (1725-1807). The story is told in “The One Year Book of Hymns” published by Tyndale House.

“The gift of forgiveness is often best appreciated by those who need it the most. The Reverend John Newton experienced this truth firsthand. His tombstone tells the story. ‘John Newton, clerk, once and infidel and a Libertine, a servant of the slavers in Africa, was, by the rich mercy of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, preserved, restored, pardoned and appointed to preach the faith he had so long labored to destroy.’

“These words were written by Newton himself, a testimony to God’s grace transforming power. After years as a hardened slave trader, that ‘wretch’ met Jesus Christ and abruptly turned to defend the gospel he had so long despised.

“Throughout Newton’s years of ministry, God’s amazing grace remained central to Newton’s thinking. When it was suggested he retire (at age eighty-two) due to poor health and a failing memory, he responded, ‘my memory is nearly gone, but I clearly remember two things: that I am a great sinner and that Christ is a great Savior.’”

The first verse of the song Newton penned says, “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound — that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost but now I’m found, was blind but now I see. John P. Rees added a fifth stanza to the work later.

If you have a favorite hymn or song of the faith that you’d like to know more about, please send me the title or the author’s name, and I will try to find the documentation concerning its authorship and the circumstances in which it was written. You can reach me at brendacannonhenley@yahoo.com.

Beware of "churlish" behavior at any time or anywhere

The best columnists I know and read on a regular basis write about things that they see or read that touches their own heart. If information lingers and burns in the writer’s heart, it will likely light a flame, or at least warm the heart of the reader when they see it on the printed page.

After all, that is what a column is — the personal opinion of the writer. My editor and publisher, Don Dodd, often defended his columnists and said they could pretty much write whatever was in their hearts or minds, with some guidelines of course, for publication and libel issues.

News reporting is entirely different. Those stories are about incidents that are newsworthy or the people making the news. The reporter writes the news and not his opinion. Writers and editors at The Examiner were often warned about “editorializing” or sharing personal opinions in news articles.

This is one reason those of us who write columns on a regular basis enjoy doing them so much. We get an idea, or in my case, I like to think that the dear Lord impresses on my heart something that would make for good writing or that would be a help to others as we go along through life. The Word of God is always a wonderful source for inspirational writing and for ideas for this type of column. Personal experience also plays into the writing from time to time as does the growth of an individual. We learn to rely on our “living” to give us our storylines and column ideas.

Yesterday around five in the afternoon, I had occasion to witness an incident in the busy Galveston Wal-Mart parking lot that left me, my husband, and several other motorists completely and totally speechless. I’ve never seen anything quite like it and I have never once in my life jumped out of my car and gotten involved in a would-be altercation between other people. I know better. I’m trained better after years of hard news reporting, but I did it anyway without thinking.

We had been fortunate enough to secure the very first parking space on Row 5 near the food entry of the big, busy store and the lot was nearly filled with afternoon shoppers. We completed our shopping and returned to our car, placed the packages in the trunk, got in, and Ted started to back out from the space. A very nice-looking, young man in a clean, white SUV was obviously waiting to turn into the spot we were vacating. Ted threw up his hand to acknowledge the man’s intention and he waved back. Kind of neighborly doings all the way around.

Ted backed out into the aisle and lo and behold, a small grey sports car whipped into the space from the opposite direction without any warning. The two young male occupants were laughing and pointing as if they had won a Kentucky Derby race. The two high-fived each other and jumped out of the vehicle heading toward the entrance of the store, laughing and jesting all the way.

The man in the SUV was instantly furious. He hopped out of his car and approached the two and said, “You saw me waiting for that space. Why did you do that? That was very rude of you.” The taller of the two men in the sports car made some derogative comment and sneered at the driver of the SUV. “Too bad, Buster, we got it, didn’t we? You go park your truck somewhere else,” said the driver of the sports car. They added some other language, which I will not quote here. Both men were continuing to laugh and thought that what they had done was very funny indeed. It looked as though the incident would come to blows or a free-for-all brawl.

I opened my car door and ran over to where the three men were standing. I said to the driver of the SUV who had been waiting patiently for our spot, “Hey, we all saw what happened, and you’re right, it isn’t funny at all, but the best thing you can do is let it go. This is not worth fighting over. Think about it. In a hundred years from now, who will know or care where any of us parked in a Wal-Mart parking lot? Those guys have acted ignorantly and it will come back to haunt them.” Both sneered at me for helping to defend the guy in the SUV. Two other shoppers walked up and said that they, too, had seen what happened. One suggested the SUV driver call the police or at least take down the tag number and report the incident.

Ted, who is a former policeman and detective, had walked over by this time and, he, too, pleaded with the man to just let it go. “You don’t want this on your record,” he said wisely. “Just let them go. They’ll get their due in time.” The man in the SUV told Ted, “You probably won’t believe this. I just got out of the hospital today from surgery because of a terrible traffic accident and I’m lucky to be alive. I needed some groceries and thought I could get in and out of here in a hurry, but you’re right, those two aren’t worth it. I’ll just go somewhere else.”

The incident seemed to be resolved and we left to return home.

My point in telling the story is that we never know what someone has had happen to them just prior to an encounter with us. The two young, rude guys thought that they were being very funny, when in reality, not only was what they did very dangerous, but it made life a lot more complicated for the man who was only trying to buy some groceries after being released from the hospital. His anger was near the surface for a lot of reasons.

In truth, I would have liked to seen the two young men pay for their bad choice and their rude actions, but it is not up to me, nor to the man driving the SUV. I honestly believe that God keeps score and that in some way, somehow, those two will pay.

The Bible refers to “churlish” behavior in 1 Samuel 25:3 (“but the man was churlish and evil in his doings”) Encarta Online Dictionary defines “churlish” as a characteristic of somebody who is ill bred or surly, sullen or miserly. The two guys in the sports car were certainly churlish in their behavior and could have really hurt someone seriously. It is a good reminder to keep our tempers under control and our actions above reproach.

Crater of Diamonds State Park gives new meaning to "finders keepers"

Retirement gives new energy and enthusiasm to travel and even with the price of gasoline on the rise, seeing America by way of enchanting back roads and hidden hideaways makes for great family fun, super photograph albums and memories of a lifetime.

Returning from a trip to Nashville in early May, my husband, Ted, took a detour through Arkansas where his parents were born and originally lived on family farms.  One of the highlights of our trip was a visit to the Crater of Diamonds State Park where visitors really do get to keep whatever they find.  Ted had been before, so he knew what to expect upon our arrival in Murfreesboro, a ways off the beaten path.  The crater is located approximately 110 miles from busy Little Rock, the state's capitol; 60 from Hot Springs, one of the most beautiful old cities in America; and 55 miles from Texarkana, AR.

Arkansas is called "The Natural State" because it is blessed with an abundance of geological wonders.  The Crater of Diamonds State Park is the only diamond-producing site in the world open to the public.  Guests are invited to prospect in the 37-acre plowed field that is the eroded surface of an ancient volcanic pipe that brought to the surface diamonds and semi-precious stones visitors find today.

Diamonds of all colors can be found at the park, but the three most common colors unearthed are white, brown and yellow.  The mine is a rock hound's delight since, along with the much sought after diamonds, over 40 types of rocks and minerals can be found here, too.  These rocks and minerals include lamproite, amethyst, banded agate, jasper, peridot, garnet, quartz, calcite, barite and hematite.

John Huddleston, a local farmer who owned the property, found the first diamonds embedded in the soil in 1906 and started the diamond mining rush.  Huddleston later sold his diamond-bearing land for $36,000.  According to a book by Howard Miller, Huddleston became nationally famous and was referred to as "Diamond John" and the "Diamond King," but later met with misfortune and died a pauper.  He is buried three miles east of the diamond field.

After a series of ill-fated mining ventures and tourist attractions, the site became an official Arkansas state park in 1972. Along with the diamond search area itself, the park has hundreds of acres of natural forest featuring a diversity of flora and fauna and offers visitors a bevy of activities.  Convenient lodging and dining are nearby.

Searching for the actual diamonds in the plowed field can be done in three ways. Surface searching is walking up and down the rows of dirt looking for diamonds that have worked their way to the top of the soil.  This is a productive method after a hard rain as the stones continually make their way to the surface.  A second successful method used is digging in the soil and screening for diamonds and other jewels.  The third method of hunting requires a lot of hard work and is usually done by guests with previous experience.  It involves the digging of a deep hole or holes, removal of the soil and washing it in a series of screens.

On permanent display at Crater of Diamonds State Park, where it was discovered in 1990 by Shirley Strawn of Murfreesboro, is the "Strawn-Wagner" diamond.  It is the most perfect diamond ever certified by the American Gen Society and is graded at O/O/O, ideal cut, D color and flawless, or a Triple Zero.  A diamond this perfect is so rare that most jewelers and geologists will never see one during their entire career.  It weighed 3.03 carats in the rough and in 1998 after it's cutting by Lazare Kaplan International of New York, the AGS certified this diamond as one in a billion.

A 40.23-carat, white diamond is the largest ever found in North America and was discovered at the Crater in 1924 by W. D. Bassum, who went by the nickname of "Uncle Sam."  Thus, the giant rock is called the "Uncle Sam" diamond and was cut twice over the years with the second cutting resulting in a 12.42-carat emerald cut gem.

The 4.25-carat "Kahn Canary" was worn by First Lady Hillary Clinton at her husband's Presidential Inaugural galas in 1993 and 1997 as a unique way to represent their state of Arkansas.  The diamond's owner, Stan Kahn of Pine Bluff, loaned the diamond to Mrs. Clinton.

The "Amarillo Starlight" diamond is 16.37 carats and the largest ever discovered in the Crater since it became a state park.  W. W. Johnson of Amarillo made this find in 1975 while on vacation with his family.  This diamond was cut into a 7.54-carat marquise shape.

In April 2008, 120 raw diamonds were found at the Crater.  In the twelve months of 2007, a total of 1,024 diamonds were found and registered.  On the day before our visit in early May 2008, five diamonds were found.  In 1994, 1,421 diamonds were found with most years averaging 500 or better per year.

For more information on the Crater of Diamonds State Park, please call (870) 285-3113, or log onto www.craterofdiamondsstatepark.com or email craterofdiamonds@arkansas.com.  The park is open year round with the exception of New Year's Day, Thanksgiving Day and Christmas Day.  Adults are charged $6.50 while children, ages 6--12, are admitted for $3.50.  Children under six are free.  Guests may bring their own digging tools or rent them from the park.

Editor's Note - This article is taken from a series "Roads Less Traveled" by writer Brenda Cannon Henley.  Henley can be reached at (409) 781-8788 or by email to brendacannonhenley@yahoo.com.

Hello and welcome to my blog...

My sister in law has been encouraging me to post a blog for months, and now that I have semi-retired, I am following through with her suggestion.  I write for a living, so you might think the last thing I would want to do is to write more words, but here I am, writing away.  I have enjoyed a life-long fascination with words from my earliest school days until now.

If I am not writing them, I am reading them.  Just finished the last of James Patterson's novels, including the Women's Murder Club series, all of the Alex Cross mysteries, and his new series on the bird children.  I also read and review books for the newspaper I work for out of Beaumont, The Examiner.  Great little read if you have the time and inclination.

My best friend since third grade, Ginger Doster, wrote yesterday and recommended a new book by Ann Rule, "Too Late to Say Goodbye," which I've ordered and will start on when it arrives.  From time to time, I will post reviews on my blog and hope you'll be interested in reading them.

I'm also involved in doing a travel series "Roads Less Traveled" and will post those from time to time as well.  First article is on the fun Arkansas Crater of Diamonds State Park in Murfreesboro, which we visited on our recent swing through Tennessee, Arkansas and Louisiana on our way back home to the Gulf Coast.

As I type on my faithful Mac, I am looking out the back deck window at the rolling and churning Gulf of Mexico, which is my backyard.  There's no place like it and we love living here on the coast.  Ted, my husband, and I fished yesterday afternoon out by the North Jetty and I am pleased to report that I caught the first fish and the largest number of fish.  We hit a bed of ocean cats and must have landed 28-30 in just a few minutes.  What fun!

We have contests determining who catches the first fish, largest fish, most unusual and the largest number each time out in the Gulf. 

 

Until next time,

Brenda