On the third day of the conference, things went as previously described up until noon. At that point I was more tired than hungry, so skipped lunch and headed for a nap at the bunkhouse. As it turned out, I missed a critical impromptu meeting. Sometime before the afternoon meeting, Bernie came into the bunkhouse with an expression on his face "like death warmed over". I do not recall our conversation, but it was obvious something was up.
Going in for the afternoon meeting, the atmosphere was totally changed, perhaps you could say "electric". There were testimonies of saints getting ready to sell their houses, quit their jobs, and move to Akron, Ohio for a strong testimony of the Lord. Sisters would get up, sometimes weeping, yet with strong determination, giving their testimony totally for the Lord's move. It appeared that most of the saints that were scattered over the northeastern U.S. were all going to move to Akron. It certainly was more than exciting.
The evening meeting was the last meeting of the conference. Sometime during the conference, at least once, maybe twice, we sang "We Have a most Glorious King", and changing the word "work" to "church". This hymn, which I had never before heard, stayed with me.
In any event, towards the close of the last meeting, those representing different churches were asked to rise, including the church in Los Angeles, the church in Houston, the church in Toronto and finally, "the church in Akron". I was sitting next to Bill Barker, and at the call for Akron, he got up! I was totally taken by surprise. How did I feel? I felt the same as if there had been an altar call, and I, unsaved, remained seated.
Note: I'm only relating what I remember of events over 40 years ago, and I cannot vouch for precise times, dates, and sequences. I have a feeling some are not quite accurate in that regard.
When it was time to go home, we gave a ride to a Chinese couple who were students at the University of Massachusetts in Amherst. They had taken, as I recall, 24 hours to get to Erie via bus to NYC and Pittsburgh. So driving home via Amherst took us a little longer, but essentially we were all on "cloud nine", and enjoying the Lord and rich fellowship with one another. We stopped somewhere for a quick bite to eat, and there on the counter was a Christmas tree with its decorating lights. It seemed so out of place, and seemed to belong to another world. I think we all had forgotten it was Christmastime.
After dropping off the saints in Amherst, finally Bill dropped me off at my place in East Hartland, CT. It was about midnight, and near the end of the year. As I crossed the threshold of my front door, I knew my life would never be the same again, but I just couldn't say what would happen next. For one thing, there was within me a very strong desire to meet with those saints in Akron.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Erie Conference, December 1969 (Part A)
The time got closer for the Christmastime conference in Erie, PA. I still said nothing, but I felt that someone from our group should attend. But not me, because we always had family over for Christmas, including my Dad, Uncle Dave Neill, Uncle Fred Blankenburg, and my sister Barbara Neill, if she was available. About the Sunday before Christmas, Bill Barker got up in our meeting and voiced his opinion that someone from our group should attend the Erie Conference. Of course this confirmed my own feeling, so I got up and voiced the same thought. Our minister, brother Stanley Albanesius pointing in turn to Bill Barker, and then me, said to each of us, "You have the burden that someone should go; you go." Someone said to him: "How about you going?" He said "Oh, I always go to these things." So actually he didn't want to go either. Another brother, Bernie Lamereaux stood up, and he actually wanted to go! Thus Bill and I were "forced" to go, and Bernie came along with us.
Bill drove, and it was an approximate 460 mile trip to a resort that had been rented about 10 miles outside of Erie. I believe we arrived about Christmas eve, and there was plenty of snow on the ground. There was a bunkhouse for brothers, with double-deck bunks, another bunkhouse for sisters, a large assembly hall with kitchen facilities, and also a hill for tobogganing. On arrival we entered the main building where there were a group of brothers sitting in a circle praying, and often saying "Amen!" together in a loud voice. I thought this quite unusual, and also thought it might bother some people, but not me.
The conference lasted 3 days. The pattern was as follows: Every morning we met in the main hall for Morning Watch, then moved our chairs over for Breakfast. After Breakfast we moved our chairs back over for the Morning Meeting. After the Morning Meeting, we moved our chairs again for the Noon Meal. After the Noon Meal, the young people typically went tobogganing, and the older saints headed for the bunk houses for a nap. At this time there were typically going on other individual meetings that I was unaware of. Later, there was an Afternoon Meeting in the meeting hall, after which we moved our chairs over for the Evening Meal. After the Evening Meal, we moved our chairs over for the Evening Meeting.
All these main meetings typically consisting in hymn singing, testimonies, and sharing by various brothers, especially Witness Lee, and sometimes others including Titus Chu. Brother Lee shared on Revelation. But he also shared a number of things that I could never forget. He said we are on the shoulders of the Brethren, who, in turn, were on the shoulders of ones who went before (Zinzindorf and the Moravian Brethren?). Then he said that if we did not bring the Lord back, he didn't know who would be on our shoulders. Another impressive thing he said was in reference to a number of young Chinese brothers. He said they were so busy pursuing their medical careers that the only way they could contribute was by way of money. He lowered his voice when he said "money", so that it sounded like a dirty word. It was clear what he meant.
It was a very intense conference, and at the end of each day we all were pretty well worn out. In the middle of the night, I remember the brother in the bunk above me calling on the Lord in his sleep!
Perhaps on the second day of the conference, a group arrived (after driving through the night) from Houston, Texas. They shared that they had been scattered all over Texas, but had quit their jobs, sold their houses, and all relocated to Houston solely for the purpose of creating a strong testimony for the Lord in one place, i.e., Houston. Essentially, by this corporate move, they began meeting simply as the local church in Houston according to the New Testament pattern, such as "The church in Ephesus", for instance. By this means they also avoided partaking of divisions such as mentioned in Corinthians where the "dividers" were saying, "I am of Apollos", or "I am of Paul", or even "I am of Christ". Footnote: Along this line, Martin Luther said, "I pray you leave my name alone. Do not call yourselves Lutherans, but Christians." John Wesley said, "I wish the name Methodist might never be mentioned again, but lost in eternal oblivion. Charles Spurgeon said, "I say of the Baptist name, let it perish, but let Christ's own name last forever. I look forward with pleasure to the day when there will not be a Baptist living."
This testimony of the Houston saints was very moving. That evening in the bunkhouse, I asked Bernie if he could picture me selling my house and moving to another locality. He said "Yes, if the Lord was in it." I told him I never could picture such a thing until this night. In fact, I used to take people through my place in East Hartland where we had a large family and a business with 6 employees. People would ask me, "What would you do if you ever have to move?" I would always reply, "Ha ha, I'm not moving." But the Lord hears every word we speak.
This is a big subject and I've run out of time. Hope to continue shortly.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Nov. - Dec. 1969
My life changed forever during these two months. About 7 1/2 months after the birth of our first grandchild (Gifford Neill III), our seventh and last child arrived, John Peter Neill Nov. 4th, 1969. It was over nine years since our previous one, Mary. So Marjorie was already now a grandma, and now a mama once again! This one was especially "on purpose". She wanted to find out what it was like to have a baby this time again after being saved. She also, so to speak, "gave him to the Lord".
Gifford Jr. had already left home and was living in Winsted. Patricia was away at college at John Brown University in Siloam Springs, Arkansas. My dad and uncle Dave were still living next door, up the road towards the center of town.
I think it was within the previous year that Bill Barker and his family moved to a nearby town and started meeting with us. He had found us through the Stream magazine, asking them who were subscribers, and they gave him the name and address of our minister's mother-in-law. Earlier, our minister, Stan Albanesius had got us copies of the Hymnal from the Stream publishers, with many of the hymns written by Watchman Nee, Witness Lee, and John Ingalls.
Some time prior to this, I had gotten and read a book by Watchman Nee entitled "The Normal Christian Life". I was very impressed with the book; having the strong impact that all believers are actually one. In one instance, Watchman was on a trolley in Shanghai, and met another believer who asked him: "Who are you affiliated with?" Watchman's response was: "I'm affiliated with you!" I was very impressed with this thought, and actually used it myself in a similar situation.
At that time the Stream magazine was written by Witness Lee in California, and covered the idea that basically all believers are one and should not be divided. Many of the hymns cover this same thought. Another thought accentuated was that the church is Christ's own body, and He lives in each believer. All this is of course fully covered in the Bible, but for some reason it hasn't been accentuated in Christianity as a whole. So the church really itself is the Christ in every believer, especially as we gather together (but I believe, even when we're apart).
In any event, we had been singing these hymns, and Stan had been preaching these things gleaned from the Stream magazine by the time Bill Barker and family joined us. He felt I think fairly well at home since he had been meeting with a similar group prior to moving to Connecticut. But it was all new to us, and sometimes Bill would use the term "church" that sounded like it had more significance than I knew.
Some time during the first part of December 1969, a friend of Bill Barker's invited Witness Lee to come and share with us. Witness Lee was to have, I believe, a conference in Boston after this. So Witness Lee arrived to share with us, accompanied by John Ingalls, Titus Chu, Dave Shields, and two other brothers. Basically he shared with us the gospel "in miniature" as it were, plus calling on the Lord, and taking the words of the Bible in prayer,i.e. "pray-reading" the word.
After three meetings, I thought I had heard it all, and brother Lee went on to Boston. But prior to them leaving, John Ingalls shared that there was to be a conference in Erie, PA during the Christmas holidays. And with a smile on his face, John Ingalls said "Down with Santa Claus!" I thought it was a rather strange time to have a conference, but I felt that someone from our group really ought to attend, but I said nothing at the time.
To be continued.
Gifford Jr. had already left home and was living in Winsted. Patricia was away at college at John Brown University in Siloam Springs, Arkansas. My dad and uncle Dave were still living next door, up the road towards the center of town.
I think it was within the previous year that Bill Barker and his family moved to a nearby town and started meeting with us. He had found us through the Stream magazine, asking them who were subscribers, and they gave him the name and address of our minister's mother-in-law. Earlier, our minister, Stan Albanesius had got us copies of the Hymnal from the Stream publishers, with many of the hymns written by Watchman Nee, Witness Lee, and John Ingalls.
Some time prior to this, I had gotten and read a book by Watchman Nee entitled "The Normal Christian Life". I was very impressed with the book; having the strong impact that all believers are actually one. In one instance, Watchman was on a trolley in Shanghai, and met another believer who asked him: "Who are you affiliated with?" Watchman's response was: "I'm affiliated with you!" I was very impressed with this thought, and actually used it myself in a similar situation.
At that time the Stream magazine was written by Witness Lee in California, and covered the idea that basically all believers are one and should not be divided. Many of the hymns cover this same thought. Another thought accentuated was that the church is Christ's own body, and He lives in each believer. All this is of course fully covered in the Bible, but for some reason it hasn't been accentuated in Christianity as a whole. So the church really itself is the Christ in every believer, especially as we gather together (but I believe, even when we're apart).
In any event, we had been singing these hymns, and Stan had been preaching these things gleaned from the Stream magazine by the time Bill Barker and family joined us. He felt I think fairly well at home since he had been meeting with a similar group prior to moving to Connecticut. But it was all new to us, and sometimes Bill would use the term "church" that sounded like it had more significance than I knew.
Some time during the first part of December 1969, a friend of Bill Barker's invited Witness Lee to come and share with us. Witness Lee was to have, I believe, a conference in Boston after this. So Witness Lee arrived to share with us, accompanied by John Ingalls, Titus Chu, Dave Shields, and two other brothers. Basically he shared with us the gospel "in miniature" as it were, plus calling on the Lord, and taking the words of the Bible in prayer,i.e. "pray-reading" the word.
After three meetings, I thought I had heard it all, and brother Lee went on to Boston. But prior to them leaving, John Ingalls shared that there was to be a conference in Erie, PA during the Christmas holidays. And with a smile on his face, John Ingalls said "Down with Santa Claus!" I thought it was a rather strange time to have a conference, but I felt that someone from our group really ought to attend, but I said nothing at the time.
To be continued.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Little Known Fact
My Dad (Tom Neill), my sister (Barbara Neill), and I lived in California for the better part of two years. My Dad in Santa Monica in the early part of the 20th century, my sister in Santa Barbara in the mid-20th century, and myself in San Marcos in the early part of the 21st century. As far as I know, my mother never went west of the Hudson river.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Hartland VI
It's been a long hiatus and in the meantime, I've sold the place in Streamwood, IL and temporarily moved in with Tom & JaeHi in Goshen, IN.
Where was I? Oh yes. I got involved with the Congregational church in Hartland. Over the several years we had a number of ministers. One was rather bad, and after him it seemed to me that we needed an "antidote". I wound up as one member on a committee to find another minister. We got the Connecticut Congregational central office in Hartford to send us resumes of potential ministers. I have to say that some of them looked like THEY needed help. But we noticed one who, to another member and myself, looked somewhat promising. The other member pointed out one line on the recommendation: "Not very much happened during this mans term at this church except perhaps in the hearts of 5 or 6 members". She said: "Look, see what this says! This means that he brought them to the Lord!" I myself, though a dormant Christian, thought that sounded pretty good. So we took steps to hire the man.
The Congregational church system is very liberal. Their philosophy is that each church is run by the congregation, whatever the congregation wants, that's it. So one congregation can be Modernists, and another can be gospel preaching.
As we interviewed Stanley Albanesius, he shared with us that he had some reservations about infant baptism. But we wanted badly enough to have him as our pastor that we neglected to inform others about this reservation, and ultimately it came back to "bite" us, or rather bite him. (Sorry, Stan).
It was due to Stanley Albanesius that I was revived from my dormant Christian condition, and indirectly also due to him that our whole family ultimately accepted the Lord Jesus as our Savior. For several, including Marjorie and some kids, it came about this way. Evelyn Hohloch was a strong believer in the church there, but never one to be "pushy", nor one who would ever do any "organizing", etc., but very quiet and reticent. Yet she had a strong burden from the Lord to rent a bus (which she did), for a round trip to Boston to a Billy Graham Crusade. Stan was thunderstruck, and thought the bus would never be filled, but it WAS! (Thank you Evy).
The gospel was preached faithfully by Stan every Sunday. But this was against the wishes of many of the congregation. Ultimately, it came to a head, and a vote would be taken. I confess that I am an optimist. Stan was a pessimist by nature, but he called himself a "realist". I thought he would win the vote, but Stan thought otherwise, and so together we made plans for that eventuality, if it should happen: On the occasion of Stan coming out on the short end of the vote, I, by pre-arrangement would get up in that very meeting and announce that next Sunday there would be a meeting in my garage with Stan preaching, plus all the Sunday School classes would continue to meet (I believe with the same teachers) in our house and office rooms over top of the garage. He lost the vote and I made the announcement.
The next Sunday there were more meeting at our house than at the Congregational church in the center of town. We continued to meet regularly in our garage and house from 1963 to 1970. My Dad and Uncle Dave came to one of those first meetings, but didn't return. On rare occasions the whole church would have a "love feast" at our house. Twice there were weddings, and at one of those weddings there were 99 people in attendance.
I heated the garage with electricity, having made a special deal with the power company so it would not be excessively expensive. I had had heating elements embedded in the concrete slab of the garage, and also a temperature sensor in there as well. This, combined with a timer to apply power at off-peak times did the trick. The thermal time constant of the slab was rather large, so we could get away with this arrangement.
During this time I continued to use the garage during the week for electronics production, having at peak, 6 employees plus our kids. Every Sunday we would move things over to make room for the church meeting. Also, on Wednesdays, Ethel Albanesius had an after-school children's bible study, and she led many of those kids to the Lord during those years in our garage.
Having a small business, there were "fat" years, and lean years. Both were rather memorable. I had started out consulting for Regent Controls of Stamford, CT, Wendell Caroll, Pres. Once I had obtained my Masters Degree in EE, in 1961, he wanted to have all 5 of my days, but I wanted to cut him down to no more than 3 days. So finally we parted ways, and I went out and in about 1 week had obtained about 4 or 5 new clients.
After a year or two of this I gradually drifted also into some electronics production, with the goal of making more money. My Dad tried a bit of the production work, but didn't like it. My Uncle Arnold was visiting, and tried it a bit also. Marjorie wanted no part of that kind of work. I have a photo of her and me on this subject wherein our facial expressions tell all. You will get a kick out of it if ever I get around to posting it.
Time to quit.
Where was I? Oh yes. I got involved with the Congregational church in Hartland. Over the several years we had a number of ministers. One was rather bad, and after him it seemed to me that we needed an "antidote". I wound up as one member on a committee to find another minister. We got the Connecticut Congregational central office in Hartford to send us resumes of potential ministers. I have to say that some of them looked like THEY needed help. But we noticed one who, to another member and myself, looked somewhat promising. The other member pointed out one line on the recommendation: "Not very much happened during this mans term at this church except perhaps in the hearts of 5 or 6 members". She said: "Look, see what this says! This means that he brought them to the Lord!" I myself, though a dormant Christian, thought that sounded pretty good. So we took steps to hire the man.
The Congregational church system is very liberal. Their philosophy is that each church is run by the congregation, whatever the congregation wants, that's it. So one congregation can be Modernists, and another can be gospel preaching.
As we interviewed Stanley Albanesius, he shared with us that he had some reservations about infant baptism. But we wanted badly enough to have him as our pastor that we neglected to inform others about this reservation, and ultimately it came back to "bite" us, or rather bite him. (Sorry, Stan).
It was due to Stanley Albanesius that I was revived from my dormant Christian condition, and indirectly also due to him that our whole family ultimately accepted the Lord Jesus as our Savior. For several, including Marjorie and some kids, it came about this way. Evelyn Hohloch was a strong believer in the church there, but never one to be "pushy", nor one who would ever do any "organizing", etc., but very quiet and reticent. Yet she had a strong burden from the Lord to rent a bus (which she did), for a round trip to Boston to a Billy Graham Crusade. Stan was thunderstruck, and thought the bus would never be filled, but it WAS! (Thank you Evy).
The gospel was preached faithfully by Stan every Sunday. But this was against the wishes of many of the congregation. Ultimately, it came to a head, and a vote would be taken. I confess that I am an optimist. Stan was a pessimist by nature, but he called himself a "realist". I thought he would win the vote, but Stan thought otherwise, and so together we made plans for that eventuality, if it should happen: On the occasion of Stan coming out on the short end of the vote, I, by pre-arrangement would get up in that very meeting and announce that next Sunday there would be a meeting in my garage with Stan preaching, plus all the Sunday School classes would continue to meet (I believe with the same teachers) in our house and office rooms over top of the garage. He lost the vote and I made the announcement.
The next Sunday there were more meeting at our house than at the Congregational church in the center of town. We continued to meet regularly in our garage and house from 1963 to 1970. My Dad and Uncle Dave came to one of those first meetings, but didn't return. On rare occasions the whole church would have a "love feast" at our house. Twice there were weddings, and at one of those weddings there were 99 people in attendance.
I heated the garage with electricity, having made a special deal with the power company so it would not be excessively expensive. I had had heating elements embedded in the concrete slab of the garage, and also a temperature sensor in there as well. This, combined with a timer to apply power at off-peak times did the trick. The thermal time constant of the slab was rather large, so we could get away with this arrangement.
During this time I continued to use the garage during the week for electronics production, having at peak, 6 employees plus our kids. Every Sunday we would move things over to make room for the church meeting. Also, on Wednesdays, Ethel Albanesius had an after-school children's bible study, and she led many of those kids to the Lord during those years in our garage.
Having a small business, there were "fat" years, and lean years. Both were rather memorable. I had started out consulting for Regent Controls of Stamford, CT, Wendell Caroll, Pres. Once I had obtained my Masters Degree in EE, in 1961, he wanted to have all 5 of my days, but I wanted to cut him down to no more than 3 days. So finally we parted ways, and I went out and in about 1 week had obtained about 4 or 5 new clients.
After a year or two of this I gradually drifted also into some electronics production, with the goal of making more money. My Dad tried a bit of the production work, but didn't like it. My Uncle Arnold was visiting, and tried it a bit also. Marjorie wanted no part of that kind of work. I have a photo of her and me on this subject wherein our facial expressions tell all. You will get a kick out of it if ever I get around to posting it.
Time to quit.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Hartland V
It's hard to tell just what year things happened. I know more where things happened rather than when. One subject I can cover in relation to the kids is money. I wanted them all to be very appreciative of, and responsible for money. Thus I've always been totally against an "allowance", in other words, money received on a regular basis for no apparent reason. So rather than that, I simply gave all the kids the opportunity to work and earn money. I belive it was beneficial. (Not only that, a lot of work actually got done!) Of course, everything done wasn't paid for, but everything to do with the business was.
I got them all to start a savings account at a bank. But I also allowed them to withdraw it. My theory was that if they were not allowed to withdraw it, they would lose interest in it, and feel that it wasn't really theirs.
I also had fun with them with money. I might have already mentioned it, but in the back yard in East Hartland, we got the field plowed, and had a big vegetable garden. But there were always a lot of stones. So one day, I told all the kids, "I'll give you 2 cents for every small stone, and 5 cents for every big stone you pick up and put on the stone wall; you can use the express wagon. This deal is only good for the next 60 minutes." Man, you should have seen those stones fly off the land, onto the express wagon, and onto the stone wall! It was breathtaking! And a lot of fun!
One Christmas Marjorie gave me a change machine, to dispense quarters, dimes, nickels and pennies. She gave me that to facilitate paying highway tolls. But I also put it to good use in another way. At times totally unpredictable by me or anyone else, out of the blue, I would announce to the kids: "Money time!" They would all gather round, and I would dispense to each kid an equal amount of quarters, dimes, nickels, and pennies. It was fun for all concerned.
One Sunday afternoon I walked with the kids up to the north end of Old Town Road to the "Skyliner", an ice cream place, and got them all ice cream cones. Then I said to them: "I want you all to remember this day, because it will always be known as 'The Good Old Days'"
For one summer we traded Gifford Jr. for Marlene, one of Chuck & Ellie's daughters in Pittsburgh. Chuck Minster was Marjorie's brother.
I always thought our place in Hartland was a wonderful place to raise our kids. The air was pure, and every cloudless night you could look up and see the Milkey Way. Also, the moral environment was good, due to the Evangelical Lutheran Free Church, which was full of born-again believers. Their pastor called on us about 3 times to get us to come to their church, but for some reason, I didn't. Instead, I joined the Congregational Church in the center of town, and became active in it.
The government of the Congregational Church was indirectly by the congregation. It was governed by the Ecclesiastical Society, which consisted of most of the members, and was founded back in colonial times. In reading the constitution of the organizations, you could easily see that in those early times, they were all very strong believers. However, at the time we moved to Hartland, most were simply what are called "modernists", in other words, not what we would call born-again believers.
To be continued. (I want to continue where I left off next time).
I got them all to start a savings account at a bank. But I also allowed them to withdraw it. My theory was that if they were not allowed to withdraw it, they would lose interest in it, and feel that it wasn't really theirs.
I also had fun with them with money. I might have already mentioned it, but in the back yard in East Hartland, we got the field plowed, and had a big vegetable garden. But there were always a lot of stones. So one day, I told all the kids, "I'll give you 2 cents for every small stone, and 5 cents for every big stone you pick up and put on the stone wall; you can use the express wagon. This deal is only good for the next 60 minutes." Man, you should have seen those stones fly off the land, onto the express wagon, and onto the stone wall! It was breathtaking! And a lot of fun!
One Christmas Marjorie gave me a change machine, to dispense quarters, dimes, nickels and pennies. She gave me that to facilitate paying highway tolls. But I also put it to good use in another way. At times totally unpredictable by me or anyone else, out of the blue, I would announce to the kids: "Money time!" They would all gather round, and I would dispense to each kid an equal amount of quarters, dimes, nickels, and pennies. It was fun for all concerned.
One Sunday afternoon I walked with the kids up to the north end of Old Town Road to the "Skyliner", an ice cream place, and got them all ice cream cones. Then I said to them: "I want you all to remember this day, because it will always be known as 'The Good Old Days'"
For one summer we traded Gifford Jr. for Marlene, one of Chuck & Ellie's daughters in Pittsburgh. Chuck Minster was Marjorie's brother.
I always thought our place in Hartland was a wonderful place to raise our kids. The air was pure, and every cloudless night you could look up and see the Milkey Way. Also, the moral environment was good, due to the Evangelical Lutheran Free Church, which was full of born-again believers. Their pastor called on us about 3 times to get us to come to their church, but for some reason, I didn't. Instead, I joined the Congregational Church in the center of town, and became active in it.
The government of the Congregational Church was indirectly by the congregation. It was governed by the Ecclesiastical Society, which consisted of most of the members, and was founded back in colonial times. In reading the constitution of the organizations, you could easily see that in those early times, they were all very strong believers. However, at the time we moved to Hartland, most were simply what are called "modernists", in other words, not what we would call born-again believers.
To be continued. (I want to continue where I left off next time).
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Hartland IV
Most years in Hartland we had a vegetable garden, sometimes a real big one. As I told everyone at the time, I did it not to save money, but to be agricultural. Since I grew up on the farm and had electronics as my hobby, the situation was now reversed; I now had electronics as my occupation, and "farming" as my hobby; whatever. Even later on I got my Uncle Fred to transport two of my dad's chicken coops over, and we had about 25 chickens.
One year I let each kid have a patch of the vegetable garden as their very own, and they grew whatever they wanted.
After a while I was able to raise fantastic vegetable crops. I used my pickup truck to go over to Austin's goat farm in the center of town, and haul in a good bit of goat manure. However, that effort was part of my semi-undoing as it put my back permanently out of whack. Foolishly, I strained it in two ways: over-doing it in loading the truck, and later when spreading it on the vegetable plot, I simply did it by twisting my back rather than my knees.
At some point in time my dad, with Uncle Dave, moved up to Hartland. Dad bought the place from Ted Aagre who moved back to Norway. My sister Barbara and her friend Tesha Lewia had both been living at my dad's place (the old homestead) in Vernon / Rockville, where I grew up. I could tell you a little bit about Barbara: She worked at a museum in Charlotte, NC for some years, and then for some years at another museum in Santa Barbara, CA. She finally wound up working at the Nature Science Center at the Museum of Natural History in NYC. There were always children's school classes going through there, and Barbara was always very much involved.
Once my dad moved to Hartland, things were different, and more fun. What had been Aagre's house came with ALL the land between his house and mine. So I immediately bought a slice of land from my dad, simply to move the property line a reasonable distance away from our place. And then we could take the fence down too, and made a pathway between our two houses. My dad would go for a walk past our house almost every day. The kids would drop in on him every so often too.
We did not have delivery mail service in Hartland. To get the mail, most every day I would hop on my bike and ride down to the Post Office to get our mail from Mrs. Emmons, the post mistress there. One memorabld day I walked. Maybe it was about 1959. I received a letter from the University of Connecticut, regretting to inform me that I had failed a course, thus failing to obtain that Masters degree in Electrical Engineering. It was then, or was it much later, that I identified with that saying, "beware of those two impostors, 'success' and 'failure'". I had failed the oral examination for the Masters degree. (I do not do well in trying to think on my feet; I do much better sitting down; in fact I get most of my best ideas about 4 AM while still in bed). Anyway, after another year or so, I was able to repeat the oral examination, this time passing it, and got my MSEE in June, 1961.
On a different note, I once caught a very strange insect in the garden and I was very curious about him, so I put the little critter in an envelope, still crawling around inside, with my return address on it, and mailed it to the Department of Etymology, The University of Connecticut, Storrs, Conn. About a week later I got a letter from them saying they received the letter, but the little fellow was all totally in pieces and they couldn't identify him
Some summer nights I'd be in my office with all the windows open, working away. With no screens on the windows there would be a zillion insects gathered around the florescent lights in the ceiling, and it seemed each one was different! I never put locks on the windows either.
Oh, sorry, I got ahead of myself. Once my dad moved to Hartland, he gave the old homestead to Barbara and me. We worked to fix it up a bit and tried to sell it without success. So finally I bought my sister's half, and rented it out. Eventually I sold it, and we added a dormer to our house in Hartland, making 6 rooms and a bath upstairs. There were two brand-new bedrooms, and in the front, Patricia had the southwest bedroom, and Yvonne had the northwest bedroom. In the winter, I think some of those bedrooms were rather cold, though all were heated.
Later, my dad gave me money to build an addition to the house, on the north side. There were bolders in the way, and it took some bulldozing to move them. Gladwin Parmalee built the addition, and he had Ron Cari pour the slab. Ron Cari was a contractor who made the news once. His wife was being "courted" by some guy in a convertible. One time he caught that convertible parked out front of their house, and he got one of his cement trucks and filled that convertible with cement!
I digress. But let me back up and digress a little more. Another one of my favorite stories: When my dad and Uncle Dave moved to Hartland, they registered to vote. For a good part of his life, my dad was a socialist. He used to vote for Jasper McLevy (the mayor of Bridgeport), for governor. He would quote him: "The Democrats were in power, and all corrupt. The Republicans hadn't been in power for quite a while, and oh how hungry they were!" My dad used to read the paper, and noting all the pages devoted to stock prices comment: "There must be an awful lot of people gambling in stock." Later, once he sold all the land of the farm for building lots and development, he put most of it into stock, and became a registered Republican.
With my Uncle Dave, it was different. He worked in the woolen mill all his life, and once they went on strike, but the business moved south, while they were still on strike. Anyway, as I said, once my dad and Uncle Dave moved to Hartland, they registered to vote. Out of curiosity, I went to the Town Clerk's office, where they, on request, gave you a list of the town's registered voters. I got two lists, one a long one of the registered Republicans, and the other one, a much shorter list of the registered Democrats. My dad was on the first one, and Uncle Dave on the second one. I mentioned this to Uncle Dave, and his eyes just twinkled.
Uncle Dave was a different kind of person. Very, very quiet. He read quite a bit, but my dad said that "Dave couldn't tell you what he read about." He did, however, give a very good speach upon his resignation from his lodge in Rockville, and it greatly surprised my dad.
Well, I must close now.
One year I let each kid have a patch of the vegetable garden as their very own, and they grew whatever they wanted.
After a while I was able to raise fantastic vegetable crops. I used my pickup truck to go over to Austin's goat farm in the center of town, and haul in a good bit of goat manure. However, that effort was part of my semi-undoing as it put my back permanently out of whack. Foolishly, I strained it in two ways: over-doing it in loading the truck, and later when spreading it on the vegetable plot, I simply did it by twisting my back rather than my knees.
At some point in time my dad, with Uncle Dave, moved up to Hartland. Dad bought the place from Ted Aagre who moved back to Norway. My sister Barbara and her friend Tesha Lewia had both been living at my dad's place (the old homestead) in Vernon / Rockville, where I grew up. I could tell you a little bit about Barbara: She worked at a museum in Charlotte, NC for some years, and then for some years at another museum in Santa Barbara, CA. She finally wound up working at the Nature Science Center at the Museum of Natural History in NYC. There were always children's school classes going through there, and Barbara was always very much involved.
Once my dad moved to Hartland, things were different, and more fun. What had been Aagre's house came with ALL the land between his house and mine. So I immediately bought a slice of land from my dad, simply to move the property line a reasonable distance away from our place. And then we could take the fence down too, and made a pathway between our two houses. My dad would go for a walk past our house almost every day. The kids would drop in on him every so often too.
We did not have delivery mail service in Hartland. To get the mail, most every day I would hop on my bike and ride down to the Post Office to get our mail from Mrs. Emmons, the post mistress there. One memorabld day I walked. Maybe it was about 1959. I received a letter from the University of Connecticut, regretting to inform me that I had failed a course, thus failing to obtain that Masters degree in Electrical Engineering. It was then, or was it much later, that I identified with that saying, "beware of those two impostors, 'success' and 'failure'". I had failed the oral examination for the Masters degree. (I do not do well in trying to think on my feet; I do much better sitting down; in fact I get most of my best ideas about 4 AM while still in bed). Anyway, after another year or so, I was able to repeat the oral examination, this time passing it, and got my MSEE in June, 1961.
On a different note, I once caught a very strange insect in the garden and I was very curious about him, so I put the little critter in an envelope, still crawling around inside, with my return address on it, and mailed it to the Department of Etymology, The University of Connecticut, Storrs, Conn. About a week later I got a letter from them saying they received the letter, but the little fellow was all totally in pieces and they couldn't identify him
Some summer nights I'd be in my office with all the windows open, working away. With no screens on the windows there would be a zillion insects gathered around the florescent lights in the ceiling, and it seemed each one was different! I never put locks on the windows either.
Oh, sorry, I got ahead of myself. Once my dad moved to Hartland, he gave the old homestead to Barbara and me. We worked to fix it up a bit and tried to sell it without success. So finally I bought my sister's half, and rented it out. Eventually I sold it, and we added a dormer to our house in Hartland, making 6 rooms and a bath upstairs. There were two brand-new bedrooms, and in the front, Patricia had the southwest bedroom, and Yvonne had the northwest bedroom. In the winter, I think some of those bedrooms were rather cold, though all were heated.
Later, my dad gave me money to build an addition to the house, on the north side. There were bolders in the way, and it took some bulldozing to move them. Gladwin Parmalee built the addition, and he had Ron Cari pour the slab. Ron Cari was a contractor who made the news once. His wife was being "courted" by some guy in a convertible. One time he caught that convertible parked out front of their house, and he got one of his cement trucks and filled that convertible with cement!
I digress. But let me back up and digress a little more. Another one of my favorite stories: When my dad and Uncle Dave moved to Hartland, they registered to vote. For a good part of his life, my dad was a socialist. He used to vote for Jasper McLevy (the mayor of Bridgeport), for governor. He would quote him: "The Democrats were in power, and all corrupt. The Republicans hadn't been in power for quite a while, and oh how hungry they were!" My dad used to read the paper, and noting all the pages devoted to stock prices comment: "There must be an awful lot of people gambling in stock." Later, once he sold all the land of the farm for building lots and development, he put most of it into stock, and became a registered Republican.
With my Uncle Dave, it was different. He worked in the woolen mill all his life, and once they went on strike, but the business moved south, while they were still on strike. Anyway, as I said, once my dad and Uncle Dave moved to Hartland, they registered to vote. Out of curiosity, I went to the Town Clerk's office, where they, on request, gave you a list of the town's registered voters. I got two lists, one a long one of the registered Republicans, and the other one, a much shorter list of the registered Democrats. My dad was on the first one, and Uncle Dave on the second one. I mentioned this to Uncle Dave, and his eyes just twinkled.
Uncle Dave was a different kind of person. Very, very quiet. He read quite a bit, but my dad said that "Dave couldn't tell you what he read about." He did, however, give a very good speach upon his resignation from his lodge in Rockville, and it greatly surprised my dad.
Well, I must close now.
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