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Betty’s Week

By Betty Shearer

    I’ve met so many nice people in the process of giving away  surplus theater seats for Woodland Hills—almost makes me wish I had more to distribute. The first 150 went to the Pontotoc Community Theatre, where my contact was Donnie Sellers. The request for the second 150 came from Steve Albucrombe from Fannin Baptist Church, located near Brandon. Last Monday, Steve and his pastor came up and looked at the seats and decided they were not what they needed, but we still enjoyed a great visit.

    Then on Thursday morning, we had another call inquiring about the seats. This time it was from Mike Word of John’s Baptist Church, located 10 miles south of Brandon on Highway 18. That afternoon, he accompanied his pastor, Rev. Jeff Harrison, to Water Valley. They decided they could use our seats. Bro. Harrison had been pastor of Pearson Baptist Church in Pearl in the late ‘70s, where Brother Terry and his family have been members since the late 60s.

    Bro. Jeff remembered Terry, but he remembered Nell and the girls even better. Terry was an over-the-road truck driver and was not in church a lot during those early days. We got into this conversation by my comment that I had a brother in Brandon. They asked where he attended church, and I told them he still returned to Pearl, his former home, each week.         Daughter Nita, her husband, Randy, and children, Paige and Spencer, still live in Pearl. Again came the question of what church. I knew the answer, Pearson Baptist, and then I learned of Bro. Jeff’s connection to this church. Also told him that best friend Betty Davis’ brother lived in Brandon and I says, “I don’t know what church, but he works for a funeral home, and his name is Van Perkins. “Well“ Bro. Jeff says, “I know Van—didn’t know his last name, but he’s tall and thin.”  I says I’m sure that our Van. To this Mike commented, “It is a small world.” And indeed it is. Gave them a tour of our church and they really liked the layout. They made pictures of our kitchen and Becky York’s Lottie Moon Offering emphasis board. They’re coming for the seats later this week—wonder what other mutual friends we can did  up?

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  Can you believe that we’re two months into 2009? Well, I’m sure we are since we sent out statements at the end of the week.

  Another event that I can not believe is here is Daylight Savings Time—It begins Sunday morning. I like the extra hour of daylight in the evening, except for Wednesdays. I do hate to deliver papers to the stores in the dark, but guess getting home from Prayer Meeting in daylight will make up for that.

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  On my way to Mom’s Saturday morning I stopped by Sprint Mart for gas. At the next pump was Rick Jenkins, who was filling up his Mom’s (Faye’s) car. He was down to enjoy the day with her and do some chores, but was going to have to cut his visit short. He’d called Wife Deana in Hernando found that it was already snowing there. It was good to see Rick. We do miss the Jenkins family at Woodland Hills.

  Bought groceries and went on over to Mom’s but got sent home early. Jimmie  left us early (about two p.m.) and on the way home found the temp reading 35 degrees. Reason for her early departure was that Pope Baptist Church was having a wild game supper that night. With snow predicted, she decided I needed to head for the Valley. Her instructions were to finish my chores in a hurry and head home, promising to finish up food for Sunday lunch.

  Well the snow did arrive, but not until about six or seven o’clock. I watched it come down until about midnight and then went to bed. However, like an excited child, I awoke about every two hours to see how much had accumulated—and I hate snow. If we have to have snow, though, that Saturday night was the best kind. It fell, was beautiful, and a lot of it was gone before church time. The rest melted during the day. I don’t think the roads were ever a problem in our area—I did not hear the traffic stop during the night. It was a beautiful snow and I’m sure would have made excellent snow cream. I didn’t make any, since I’m not a big fan of this treat. Ed was and I sure did hate to waste all that snow. Someone suggested that I should have made a bowl for him, even if I had just let it melt—might do that next time.

  Had talked to Jim on Friday night and he reported 87 degrees. Said he was driving to El Paso between 7 and 8 p.m. (on his way to play a concert) and that he had his AC on and was still hot. Told him I was catching the next plane out.

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  Received word the latter part of last week that Valley Native Jimmy Dollahite’s wife, Pat, had died. We extend sympathy to the family.

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  Did not go back to Mom’s on Sunday. Stayed home to attend the funeral of Mrs. Mozelle Tillman. Had known Mrs. Tillman for most of the years I’ve been in the Valley. Mr. Tillman came by the office in the early years and Mrs. Tillman and Mother Shearer (Dolly) worked together at the hospital. Then I got to know her son, Bob, who was the WV Fire Chief for many years. Bob and his wife, Jackie, are now members at Woodland Hills, so we’re church family. Mrs. Tillman was always such a sweet lady and I extend sympathy to Bob and Jackie and all the family.

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  Completed the column, I thought, before going home Monday night.

  Got home, flipped on the TV, and found the movie “Apollo 13” playing. Don’t have time to go into detail about this in this week’s column, but will touch the highlights next week, just in case you missed it. Will jog you memory a little. It was the next moon mission, following Neil Armstrongs walk there in July of 1969—we’re coming up on the 40th Anniversary of this. The Apllo 13 mission was in April of 1970, right about Jim’s 6th Birthday. One of the crew was Native Mississippian Fred Hayes, and the mission was just chocked full of mishaps, keeping us all on the edge of our seats throughout the journey. If you get a chance to see the movie, I strongly suggest that you do, and encourage you children and grands to watch it with you.

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  Be sure to turn those clocks forward an hour before going to bed Saturday night, otherwise you get to church late.

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